The Evidence of Things Not Seen
by Battle Fries
Summary: Agent James Ellison of the FBI thinks he might have found a break in a number of cases, and to that end he enlists the aid of a convicted murderer to stop more deaths. It's a long shot, but he has Faith. This story begins four years after the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and just prior to the Terminator episode 'Queen's Gambit.'
1. The Deal

**Chapter One: The Deal**

___Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. –Hebrews 11_

* * *

The turn of the key in Faith's cell door was loud enough to her Slayer's ears to have her awake and alert in an instant. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman didn't leap out of her tiny bed or give any other signal that she wasn't still asleep. Ever since the First Evil had sent someone to kill her while in prison, Faith had stopped giving anyone any potential advantages they didn't need.

"Lehane! You've been summoned," Warden Danielle Jordan said.

Faith turned around and stood up. Warden Jordan – a burly Hispanic woman who was the only person in the prison who didn't find the alliteration of her title and name to be at all amusing – didn't usually visit individual inmates. Something special had to be going on. "What's up? I didn't think visitors' hour was for another… What time is it, anyway?" Faith didn't get visitors often, but when she did, she made a point of being fully awake for them. Having people care for her was still a strange concept, and she tried not to take it for granted.

"Not that kind of visitor, Lehane. You're goin' to him. Just be good and don't try to escape i_again_/i and we can all have a nice day. Since I want to have a nice day, and I think you want to have a nice day also, you're not going to do anything to mess things up, now are you?"

Faith stifled a chuckle. The Warden was a tough woman, but despite her tough talk, she hated confrontation. Any rule-breakers found themselves punished harsher than was technically proper for disrupting Warden Jordan's peace and quiet. "No, ma'am. Not plannin' on messing anything up."

Danielle Jordan snorted. "Yeah, right. What was your excuse when you broke out in oh-three? 'Trouble found you,' wasn't it?"

Faith held up her hands in a placating gesture. "My life was screwed up way before I ended up here. My past caught up with me, and I've told you that over and over, so why don't we just skip to the part where we all get to have a nice day, eh?"

The Warden huffed. "Yeah, whatever. Just be on your best behavior. From what I hear, you might get a sentence reduction if you play your cards right."

Faith gave the Warden Jordan a strange look as she exited her cell. "You know I'm not looking for that."

The dark-haired Warden huffed again. "Hell, I know that, but some big shot above my pay grade either doesn't know or doesn't care. Yolanda, take Lehane from here."

Yolanda was a slender, well-muscled black woman who, if Faith was honest with herself, would have liked to have a romp with if circumstances were different. Thankfully, she was a lot cheerier than the Warden. "This way, Faith. We got a bit of a ride ahead of us, and its rush hour."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Yo," Faith said, using her nickname for the one guard who let her get away with calling her by anything other than 'ma'am' or 'sir'.

Yolanda chuckled good-naturedly and ushered Faith into the back of a police car once they got out to the parking lot. "Just keep acting like you've been since you came back and it should all be good," the guard said as she got into the driver's seat and started the engine. "I don't suppose you're ever gonna tell us what really happened back in oh-three?"

"Personal stuff," Faith said, not wanting to think about the Battle of the Hellmouth or the chaos with Angel that had come right before it. She'd had to escape back then; she'd been needed. Thankfully for her, there were tons of other Slayers now, so Faith had turned herself back in as soon as Sunnydale has collapsed and was content to live out the rest of her life in prison.

Yolanda shook her head. "Don't know anyone else who could pull off what you did just for 'stuff,' even if it was personal."

Faith smiled. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind."

A chuckling Yolanda replied, "That you are, Faith. That you are."

The rest of the ride passed peacefully enough until they reached their destination. Yolanda actually took an interest in her charges, so Faith told her how her last visit from Buffy and the gang had gone, to which Yolanda said that she was blessed to have friends like that. Faith knew she was right, given how messed up most people in maximum-security prison were. That anyone bothered to go through the strict security needed just to visit her was astounding.

Faith caught a glimpse of a sign before they entered an underground parking lot. "Shit, Yo! What does the FBI want with me?"

"Couldn't say, Faith. An agent wants to see you, so I'm delivering you. Don't know more than that. And I'm sorry, but I gotta cuff you before I take you upstairs. I know you're not gonna try anything, but they don't."

"Yeah, I hear you. S'all good," Faith said, though she was truthfully more than a little nervous. Horror stories about the supposedly-defunct Initiative were all she knew about when the government and the supernatural crossed paths, so she was on her guard. The Mayor had never counted as 'government' in her book.

Yolanda brought Faith out of the car and into an elevator marked 'Authorized Personnel Only.' When they got to level 26, a bland-looking male agent in a suit and tie took Faith off Yolanda's hands. The friendly prison guard gave her an encouraging look before the elevator doors closed again, and Faith was led off down a few long halls and then into an interrogation room, complete with the wall-length mirror that just had to be two-way.

Time passed during which Faith resisted the urge to talk to the people she was sure were waiting on the other side of the mirror. She also had to make an effort to not make any faces, since she i_really_/i didn't want to mess anything up here.

After about ten minutes, the door buzzed and opened to admit a bald black man in a suit and tie. He held a number of case files in his hand, which he placed on the table in between Faith and himself as he sat down across from her. The top file looked had her name on it.

"So, Faith – may I call you Faith? – you've got quite a record for someone so young."

Faith didn't bother to answer his question about her name. He seemed to want to do the talking himself. Hell he was one of those guys who seemed to be in love with his own voice.

"You were wanted for the murder of Sunnydale Deputy Mayor Alan Finch, but that turned out to be an accidental homicide. The murder weapon was a wooden stick of all things. You must be stronger than you look to have killed a man with that," he said with a smile that Faith knew was an attempt to bait her. She kept silent.

"You should have realized by then how messed up things were, but you didn't," the man continued. "Professor Lester Worth – a volcanologist teaching at UC Sunnydale – was your next victim. This one wasn't accidental. And at your trial, you confessed to a third murder – I beg your pardon: third homicide, second murder – of a courier whose name you never knew, and whose body your similarly unnamed accomplices dumped who-knows-where."

Faith kept silent, thinking that the agent's monologue was more for his own benefit instead of hers. Or maybe he was trying to wear her down and drudge up her guilt. He didn't have to bother with it if that was the case: she felt the guilt every day.

"His name, by the way, was George Lamont, and he was found in the ocean. You claimed to be a mercenary in the employ of Mayor Richard Wilkins III, which does seem rather suspect given that you killed his deputy. But unfortunately, we can't question Mayor Wilkins himself since he died in a gas explosion while giving a commencement address at Sunnydale High School. You'd probably be under investigation for terrorism charges if you hadn't been in a coma at the time. It does make for a good alibi if nothing else."

Faith decided that she'd had enough. "You goin' anywhere with this, gramps? I know what I did, and I'm payin' for it. You got something to say to me, just say it already."

The bald agent smiled a humorless grin. "Straight to business. I can appreciate that. All right, then. I think we're both familiar enough with your own case file, so let me show you another."

The black man closed her file, slid it to the side, and opened another file to reveal a series of photographs sitting atop a number of papers. "Doctor Franklin Caldwell. He specialized in helping wounded veterans until he was found dead in his apartment two weeks ago. His body was found in the bathroom next to a bath tub full of blood. Dr. Caldwell appears to have died of asphyxiation. After his death, someone cut out his eyeballs and made off with them."

"Why?" Faith asked without thinking.

"I'm sorry?" the agent asked.

Faith looked up, realizing that she had actually spoken. "Why would someone want his eyeballs? Do you have any other cases like this one?" Once upon a time, Faith would have just passed off the detail as the work of a psychopath, but now she couldn't help but ask. Eyes were key ingredients to certain dark rituals, or so Willow had told her in passing. Usually the witch or warlock needed to harvest ingredients from multiple people with similar qualities. Astrological birth signs, birth dates, virgins, etc. Ignoring something like this just wasn't something Faith could do anymore.

But the as-yet-unnamed agent put those fears to rest. "We don't know why, but we have no other similar victims. Dr. Caldwell's file, however, isn't the last one that relates here." The agent slid the still-open file to the side to sit on top of her own, and then he opened another file. This one showed a man in a lab coat dead on the floor of what looked like an exam room. "Dr. David Lyman: plastic surgeon. Found dead in one of his clinic rooms. Cameras caught someone entering, but didn't catch his face. Dr. Lyman was alive at that point, and the only other person in the office. By the time someone left, Lyman was dead. Records say that Lyman performed extensive cosmetic alteration on the guy without anesthesia. The pain should have been too much for him to bear, and yet he walked out of there like nothing was wrong.

"The important thing that we've taken from this case is that the same blood that was in Dr. Caldwell's bathtub was on the floor of Dr. Lyman's exam room. Similar blood was also found here," the agent said, opening a fourth file to show her a photo of a crime scene in a run-down apartment. Three bodies were on the floor. "And here." He showed her a fifth file, this one of a nice home that reminded Faith of the Summers's house, only a bit more luxurious. One elderly man was dead on the carpeted floor.

Faith looked up at the bald, black agent and tried not to show anything on her face. "Sounds like you've got this case all wrapped up. You got the same blood at all these crime scenes, right? Should be a cinch to figure out who it is."

The agent scratched the back of his head and scrunched up his face. The effect was astounding. In place of the cocky bastard who'd been listing off random info at her was a guy trying to solve a puzzle, and he looked to be stumped. "Well, that's where we run into a bit of a problem. We don't have a match for the blood, since it isn't really blood at all. It looks like blood, works like blood, only it works a bit better than regular blood since the red blood cells are artificial. Lets whoever's walking around with that inside him heal a lot quicker than anyone has a right to heal. Only way someone could be under a plastic surgeon's knife without anesthetics and walk out none the worse for wear. This is all theory, of course. Never tested or proven.

"We do have one suspect, however."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Well, why're you wasting your time sitting here and talkin' to me? Go get this guy!"

"We have one suspect," the agent repeated, "but her alibi is airtight, having been locked away when all these crimes were committed."

_That_ got Faith's attention, and she couldn't help but snarl at the balls this guy had. "You think I killed these people?"

"No, Faith. I don't. But someone out there is walking around with blood that gives them a certain feeling of invincibility, which is something I read in your psych profile. And before you cut me off, that same profile also tells me that despite all your past crimes, you've had people speak on your behalf after you turned yourself back in after your escape. The fact that you even bothered to turn yourself in at all – twice – speaks to your character. I think you really do want to make up for your sins, and that's what I'm asking you to do. Help me catch whoever's killing these people."

Faith thought about his words for a second or two before making up her mind. "All right. I'm in."

The agent looked puzzled. "Usually, in a case like this, the party sitting in cuffs asks what's in it for them. You'll be offered time off your sentence if you show good faith – no pun intended."

"Don't want time off," Faith said, her estimation of the agent rising as he finally got down to business. "Just want to catch this guy. Whatever this is, it's not random. I don't know what it is, but I'll help you stop whoever's doing this. You got my word on that for whatever it's worth. And do I get a name out of you, or do I just have to make up a nickname or something?"

The agent smiled thinly. "Call me Agent Ellison for now. Have you eaten yet? Probably not, it's still early. Let's get you some breakfast, a change of clothes, and we can go over these files in greater depth together."

"You really trust me enough to let me run free in an FBI building, Agent Ellison?" Faith asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Most here wouldn't, but I think you're not the soulless killer the prosecution tried to paint you as. Or if you were that person, you're not anymore. It's rare to find someone who's done what you have and who truly wants to repent. You're the kind of person who brightens my day."

Faith laughed. "Gonna try to save my soul, Agent Ellison? I'm pretty sure I've long since been headed for Hell."

"Don't joke about things like that, Lehane," Ellison said sternly.

"Wasn't joking," Faith said, matching his glare.

Ellison sighed. "Whatever our souls are in store for, we've got lives to save. Now come with me and we'll get you something proper to wear and to eat. And then we'll go catch a killer."

Faith stood up and stretched, feeling just a bit better about herself for the first time in four years. "Saving lives on the right side of the law while you try to save my soul, huh?" Faith looked upwards and directed her thoughts towards the Powers That Be. "Thanks for the direct approach. From what I gather, you don't always lay things out so straightforward."

Ellison's eyebrows shot up as he gathered his case files. "You believe in God, Faith?"

"Don't know about God, Agent. Just know that there is a Hell, and I don't want anyone to suffer like that. Let's just say I'm paying back another friend who helps the hopeless. So long as we're clear on that and a few other things, Agent Ellison, you and I'll be five-by-five."

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Reviews are like candy for my Muse.

I don't own Terminator or Buffy the Vampire Slayer in any way, shape, or form. I'm just playing in their collective sandboxes.

Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoy the story!


	2. Sketches

**Chapter Two: Sketches**

* * *

James Ellison looked at the lab results feeling incredibly disappointed. Lehane had given up a sample of her blood without a fuss, and had immediately thereafter requested to see all the information they had on the murders that the fake blood linked together. After impressing on her how serious and confidential the information was, Lehane had simply said 'I can keep a secret' and signed the non-disclosure agreement that would grant her access to the files.

It was just something to keep her busy until he broke the news to her that their collaboration was not going to be going anywhere, and that she'd be going back to prison. There was the off-chance that she might recognize something as being part of the mind of a killer, but that was a faint hope at best, and a mental pat on the shoulder if James was honest with himself.

Lehane's blood was, with the exception of her rare AB negative blood type, nothing special at all. There was nothing to explain her rapid healing from the few scuffles she'd gotten into during her time in prison. Her immune system seemed to function at a higher-than-average capacity, but that was far from a unique condition. Biologically speaking, the girl was as human as a human could be and still have killed people.

And as much as he hoped that she could help him, the truth was that Faith was a killer: one of the worst kinds of sinners. Unlike most such people, however, Faith Lehane seemed truly dedicated to redeeming herself. The fact that Faith herself put her sentence in personal terms of redemption spoke to her current character, if not her past self. Someone or something had given the girl a set of principles and morals, and while it might not count for much in the criminal justice system, James Ellison was thankful that Faith Lehane's soul was on the right path again.

He had hoped that he would have been able to keep up the charade a bit longer, but Faith's lack of a proper education would make that hard to run by his superiors, even if she might actually be of help. He hated to dash the girl's hopes, but this was still progress; in that one possibility had been ruled out. Hopefully she'd take that as a good thing.

Sighing and checking the time – going on 1:00 – James decided to check in on Faith. He'd shown her the basics of the files and their layouts, and the girl had caught on very quickly for someone without a formal education. She seemed to have a good feel for spotting patterns, which he had hoped would be of some small help. Shortly after she'd given her blood, James had left her to her own devices, since she claimed to work better alone.

She was in a VIP area on the tenth floor, but it was really just a fancy cell, complete with code-access doors and guards both inside and out. James was on level six, so he caught an elevator up and strode down the hall to break the news.

What he did not expect to see was a nervous-looking clerk looking to intercept him. "Agent Ellison! Agent, please!"

"Yes, what can I do for you, Mister…"

"York, sir. Ted York. I just thought you should know that one of the guests has been going over some sensitive files. A, uh, Faith Lehane, sir?"

James nodded, thankful for the man's vigilance, even if it wasn't needed. "I appreciate your thought and care, Mr. York, but Miss Lehane has signed an NDA and has been granted access to a few files."

"Well, uh, yes sir, I know. They've been in there with her since you brought her here yesterday. But she's been asking for more, sir, and since the NDA didn't specify only those exact files, and since the guards felt threatened-"

"She threatened the guards?" Ellison asked, all ears now.

"Not exactly, Agent," the poor clerk stammered. "She just kept insisting that if the killer ended up striking again, then it would be on their consciences for not getting her the information sooner. And, um, I think she spooked them, sir. They seemed to be apprehensive before entering the room with the files or, well, entering the room at all. Do you think something might be up, sir?"

"Quite possibly, Mr. York," Ellison mused. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll handle Miss Lehane."

Leaving behind a flustered Ted York to go about his duties, James headed to the VIP quarters where Faith was lodging and showed his ID to the guards before keying in the code to open the door.

The living area's floor was covered with papers and photos, and there was a notepad with a few pages flipped sitting on a coffee table with the outlines of a sketch penciled on it. Right next to the pad was a stack of large and i_empty_/i pizza boxes. Did the girl normally eat like this, or was this just a case of getting as much non-prison food as she could while she had the time?

Regardless of her eating habits, Faith herself was sitting on a sofa and was leaning forward towards the 'show' on the television, and James had to prevent himself from breathing too hard as he looked at the scene playing out.

The timestamp marked the video from September 12, 1999 in the middle of the afternoon. The apparent robbery of the Sun Trust of Los Angeles Bank was playing out before his eyes. Sarah Connor and her son, John, took backseat to an unknown female accomplice who held the teller at the point of a gun she had taken from one of the security guards.

The people in the building had evacuated by the time the police arrived, and for the tape showed a lengthy period of nothing happening. A number of police officers appeared just outside the doors, followed shortly by an unidentified man who witnesses had also seen three days earlier at a shooting at a school in New Mexico. His face was clearly disfigured, but the details weren't clear from the tape, which ended a few minutes later when the camera fell at an odd angle and broke.

"You just gonna stand there, Agent, or are you gonna ask me what I think?"

James snapped out of his reverie quickly. Faith had to have exceptional hearing to pick up his entry while still remaining so focused on the video. "I was going to give you an update, but I think you should go first. I take it you found something in our files that you think might give us a lead, or do you just find it funny to fool around with FBI files?"

Lehane smirked. "Probably would be funny if that's what I was doing, but it's not. One of the files you didn't show me covered this guy," she said as she rewound the tape to show the disfigured man, "tearing up a school in New Mexico, gunning for some kid. They found that strange blood there."

"This case was resolved eight years ago," James said patiently.

"You really think that, Agent? I don't. Doesn't add up. A couple of your other files referenced this case, talking about Sarah and John Connor. The mom sure had some interesting ideas on how things were supposed to have turned out, didn't she?"

"If you want to call delusions that ended up with people dead 'interesting,' then you could say that."

"Yeah, but I ain't done yet. So, Sarah Connor goes all 'end is nigh, the machines are coming' starting back in '84, gets committed after she gets caught trying to blow up a computer factory, gets sprung slash escapes. Check out these photos."

Faith sifted through a small stack of photocopies by her side on the couch and pulled up two shots of the same man caught on camera: one was the shooter who tore up a police station and killed several officers in 1984, the second was from a shopping mall in Reseda in 1997.

"Look at 'em closely. What can you tell me about our guy here?"

Sighing, James decided to humor the girl and held up one photo in each hand for him to examine. "Nothing to see, Faith. Just one guy, two photos."

"See, that's what's so strange. Look closer. He looks pretty much i_exactly_/i the same in both photos, and they're thirteen years apart. And given what this guy's done, I don't see him caring about going to see a plastic surgeon to make himself look younger. This guy hasn't aged a day, Agent. Tell me you don't think that's odd."

James raised a curious eyebrow and re-examined the pictures. He checked the dates, then re-checked the pictures. They really were as close a match as he could tell with his naked eye. "Anything else? A strange pair of photos isn't much to go on."

"I know. Be patient, okay? So, this guy who tried to kill John Connor slash Reese in New Mexico – the survivors said he went by 'Cromartie' – did you see his face when he went into that bank? You think he was just torn up, right? Been in a fight or something? Nah, I asked very nicely for a nice close-up shot of his wounds. Check it out."

Faith handed James another piece of paper, but this one showed nothing but a rectangle of metal circuitry that went far over his head. "What's this?"

"That," Faith said, "is a very, very close-up shot of Cromartie's scalp, from where his hair was ripped or burned off or whatever. And the forensics team showed that the door to the bank's vault was forced open before it went boom."

James did not like where this was going. "Do you have anything else to share?"

"Just a bit for now, but I've only had a day or so to look at this stuff. Why did the Connors blow up the bank? Didja ever get a motive for that one?"

"No, we didn't. But Sarah Connor was a paranoid, delusional madwoman. While I have to try to think like psychotics in order to catch them, that doesn't mean I understand them."

"Huh. Well, crazy or not, Sarah Connor has a pattern: computers and the people who make them. The bank was neither, and given how tiny a branch it was, I don't think any big shot computer company's gonna hide their top secrets in that kind of bank. Also, if Connor did want to blow up the bank, where was her bomb? Yeah, yeah, I know she could've had a vest, but that doesn't fit. She's not looking to be a martyr: she's a soldier on a mission, or that's how she sees herself. She was following this kid's lead here," Faith said, rewinding the bank security tape to show the brown-haired girl pointing a gun at the teller. "Look at the Connors, look at their faces. They're scared, or at least worried. They think this chick can help them, I bet. The way she took the guard's gun, she could kill them both easily anytime she wanted, so she's their ally. Means she's also on a mission, so why go down into a vault with no way out to blow herself up?"

James was now rubbing his temples to try and shoo away the inevitable headache. "Do you have a point, Lehane?"

"My point, Agent Ellison, is that Connor's story is the most likely one. Robots or no, something that wasn't human is probably killing people. The blood you found isn't human, so just call it like it is: non-human blood. Belongs to something else entirely. 'Til you find out what that something else is… Well, I guess that's why you sprung me, isn't it?"

"So, just to make sure I understand you correctly, Faith," James said carefully, "you think that Sarah Connor's story about machines from the future trying to kill her and her son is the most likely story to explain these murders?"

Lehane shrugged. "I don't know if Connor's who they're after now, but it fits. The exposed metal skull, the strength to push over a bus and knock down a vault door, the ability to shrug off bullets as if they were nothing… That explains the robot half. We don't know where they come from, but we have one possible explanation: the future. If these things can time travel, and if in the future, the good guys captured that tech – yeah, I read up on the '84 case – then they might still have that tech. Don't know how it works, but maybe the mystery girl had one in a safety deposit box. Probably robbed the bank instead of waiting in line because she knew Cromartie was following them.

"So, you have a case in '84, another in '97, another in '99, and then a bunch more here in '07. If the Connors did travel in time, my guess is that they jumped ahead eight years. If they're wanted, everyone would think they died, so you guys wouldn't be onto them. More importantly, the robots wouldn't be onto them, either. Or maybe they would. I dunno how time travel works, or machines for that matter.

"So, that's my brilliant theory, Agent Ellison. Think you can use it?"

The most troubling part of Faith's entire rant was that she sounded totally and completely certain and calm all throughout, as if her thought process was the most logical progression possible. Had Sarah Connor been so certain of herself when she'd killed Miles Dyson and destroyed Cyberdyne Systems?

"Let me guess," Faith said before he could reply. "You think I'm crazy, right?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." The words were an understatement.

Faith threw up her hands and began to pace the room, clearly frustrated. "What is it with you people, anyway?" she said, and James wasn't sure who she meant by 'you people.' "You see dead people, you see the clues, you see what killed them, and then you just ignore it 'cause it doesn't fit in 'the real world.' Well, the world's a hell of a lot bigger than you realize, and the sooner you admit that there's a shitload of stuff out there that you know nothing about, the sooner you'll start saving lives."

Faith looked skyward again, just as she had done when she'd first come to him. "Is this a friggin' joke? You send him to me all nice and gift-wrapped, and then he doesn't believe me! Will nothing make you fuckers happy?" With her rage vented, Lehane fell back onto the sofa and sulked silently.

Something was nagging at the back of Ellison's conscious mind, but he couldn't tell what it was yet. "Are you saying you think that these murders are the work of some religious cult or a group of radicals? Does Sarah Connor have a doomsday cult after her, maybe?"

Faith growled in exasperation. "You're still not getting it, Agent… Dammit! Can't I know your first name? I feel stupid having to call you by a title and you get my name, rank, serial number, all that jazz."

"James," he offered. "And what am I not getting?"

"Well, James," Faith said angrily, "you're not getting that humans ain't the top of the food chain. Never have been, never will be. There're so many things out there that are supposed to give you nightmares. Stuff that parents warn their kids about, all those itty bitty fears you've had since you were a kid, I guarantee you that if you can think of it, it exists, and it probably wants to kill you. It's not like I'm even expecting you to believe in the really nasty shit. Trust me, Jim, robots from the future are i_not_/i that big of a leap of faith."

The thought at the back of Ellison's head came to the front as Lehane finished her tirade. "First, it's James, not Jim." Young people today had no respect. "But more than that, 'Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.'"

"That supposed to mean something to me, James?" Lehane asked with arms crossed under her breasts.

"It means something to me, yes," Ellison retorted. "It's from the Bible. Without faith, there's no point in worshiping God. I am a religious man, and I believe that God has a plan for us all. I don't presume to know that plan, and I try not to let it interfere with my work. But when you start talking about monsters and robots from the future as if they were everyday things... If faith is 'the evidence of things not seen,' then I'd be a fool to turn away your help."

The girl laughed. "What're you talking about? You think I'm some sort of sign to point you in the right direction? I'm a lot of things, but I'm no saint. Not someone you should be looking to for your religious kicks, for sure."

"This isn't a game to me, Faith," Ellison said calmly and firmly. "If you're willing to share what you know with me, then I'm willing to bring you on board for a while longer than I initially thought as an outside expert. This is assuming, of course, that you're not stark raving mad."

"Oh, of course," and now she was smirking and stretching in a way that highlighted the curves of a very fit young female body. "So, uh, do you want me to clean this up?" she said, gesturing to the mess of papers all around her.

"Yes, please," James said as he picked up her notepad. "You went through all this paper?"

"Yeah," she said. "Was trying to get a good sketch of something, but I kept getting distracted. Amazing how prison gives you so much time to practice things like that. What's next after this?"

"I figured we'd talk to someone in local custody. The apartment with the three dead guys? Barcode tattoos? There's a fourth, and the LAPD has him on a murder charge. We're gonna talk to him."

"Sounds good to me, boss man. Except for the whole murder thing, y'know. And by the by, I'll try not to let it get out that the FBI keeps colored pencils in their nice office building," she said with a smirk.

Wondering at her words, James flipped through her notepad to find page after page of sketches of the same thing over and over: a red-eyed metal skull. What had Sarah Connor called it? He whispered the ominous name under his breath: "Terminator."

* * *

Special Thanks to Oxnate for beta-reading this chapter.

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Thanks for reading. I hope you like the story.


	3. Impressions

**Chapter Three: Impressions**

* * *

As he sat in the cold, musty interrogation room waiting for his inquisitor to appear, Derek Reese pondered how he'd ended up here. Somehow, his team had gotten a T-888 on their asses, and as far as Derek knew, he was the only survivor.

He hadn't been idle, though. He hadn't waited for the metal to find him. Andy Goode still built his computer that could very well become Skynet, and Derek had taken him out for all the good it did. The computer – the Turk – was nowhere in sight. Someone else had beaten him to it, and Derek wasn't inclined to believe that it was someone looking out for humanity.

He'd probably have escaped if it hadn't been for Sarah Connor of all people trying to stop him. What the hell had she been doing there, anyway? Trailing Goode herself, maybe? Gathering intel? It didn't matter now. All he had to look forward to now was an interrogation from some unknown cop he hadn't met yet.

In all the movies he'd seen as a kid, the interrogation rooms were well-lit and sterile, but this one was dark, musty, and very well-used. It looked like it had once been an area for inmates to meet visitors, given the sign that read 'Do Not Give Anything to Inmates.' Derek doubted anyone would be trying to give him anything anytime soon.

The door opened and a bald black man in a suit walked in holding a manila folder. He sat down across from Derek.

"Do you want me to loosen those for you?" he said, gesturing to the cuffs around Derek's wrists. "It's a trick they do. Make 'em tight so that I can loosen them up for you. Gives us a connection." The cop seemed to be going for the 'I'm your pal who won't lie to you' approach to get him to cooperate. Probably wouldn't do a lot of good in any event, given that the Triple-Eight was probably still gunning for him.

"You were caught fleeing from the scene of Andrew Goode's murder," the cop continued, "but we also have your prints on file here," he said as he fished out a series of photos showing the bodies of Timms, Sumner, and Sayles sprawled out on the floor of their safe house. A few photos of their barcode tattoos from time spent in a Skynet work camp were there to rub in the point that yes, he'd known these people.

"Your prints are everywhere. The chairs, the toilet, the safe. Funny thing about the safe. Our guys got there, thought we'd cleaned everything out, but between then and now, someone returned and emptied the safe. They didn't force it, either; they knew the combination.

"So," the cop continued, sounding like he really loved to hear his own voice, "we have you living at, fleeing from, and most likely returning to the scene of these three murders. All of which would be a prosecutorial bounty even if I didn't have forensic evidence linking this crime scene to this." The man produced a photo of an elderly Hispanic man lying dead on the floor of a house. "And this." The cop showed a photo of a middle-aged white guy's dead body.

"What is it?" Derek asked idly.

"I'm sorry?"

"The forensic evidence linking all these crimes," Derek clarified. "What is it?"

"Blood," the cop said bluntly.

Derek had never seen the two other guys before in his life. "Not my blood," he offered up.

"No," the cop agreed. "Not your blood. And technically, not even blood. Some kind of synthetic concoction."

Derek looked up just barely, working to restrain himself from throwing a fit about how little this investigation mattered in the grand scheme of things.

"What am I missing here?" the cop asked, sounding truly curious. "What connects the dots? Come on, tell me something I don't know."

Without humor, Derek looked the man straight in the eyes. "We're all gonna die."

"Are we now? What makes you say that? You know someone with type O-fake blood?"

Derek sighed. "You wouldn't believe a word I told you."

The cop shrugged. "Maybe not," he admitted. "It's been pointed out to me recently that my horizons aren't nearly as broad as perhaps they should be. It's something I'm working on, to tell you the truth. Fortunately for you, I have a new partner who has a significantly less narrow field of vision than I do when it comes to unexplained murders. Would you care to give your story to a more perceptive audience, perhaps?"

Derek stifled a humorless laugh. As if any cop would believe him about machines from the future. The legend of Sarah Connor was made all the more epic because her predictions of doom had fallen on deaf ears until it was too late. She was almost as famous as her son, if not more so. But given the Connors' less-than-clean criminal records, as far as he was aware, bringing them up would not be a wise idea.

The black cop merely stood up and gathered his papers together. "Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts for a few minutes, and then I'll send my partner in. I think you'll like her more than me. Call it a hunch."

Derek glared at the man's back as he exited the room, hating him and his establishment for the blind cowards that they all were. He took no consolation in knowing that they'd one day be proven wrong.

* * *

Faith looked out of the two way mirror at the unnamed prisoner, and since he hadn't really said all that much, and what little he said was in line with what she'd expected, her thoughts were more focused on what the guy would be like in bed. He had some fine muscles that made Faith remember a certain itch that hadn't been scratched in about four years.

James opened the door and entered the viewing room. "Any thoughts?"

"Nothing yet. Still mostly glad that you sprang for a new outfit," she said, showing off her new black leather outfit with a dark red t-shirt beneath her jacket. "Comfy, practical, and stylish. Should get a reaction out of him. Probably better that you wouldn't spring for a full pantsuit in the long run. It'd just get wrecked."

James sighed exasperatedly, as Faith had guessed he would. "Look, do you think you can get him to open up?"

"Don't know. Let's find out." Faith sauntered out of the viewing room and fished her visitor's pass out of her jacket pocket. The guards opened the door and let her in to see the prisoner.

Faith didn't know what to expect, but when their John Doe's mouth dropped open in shock, Faith smirked and went with the flow. "Like what you see, do ya?"

"What? Oh, God no! Don't… Just, don't do that!" he said, sounding disgusted.

Faith took his words in stride, to put things into relative terms. "What're you saying? You think I'm ugly? Damn, and here I was looking at you, all nice and toned, and thinking you and I could have some fun. I go to all the trouble to dress up and look good, and the first guy I meet who isn't a cop doesn't like my style. I gotta say, this isn't helping your chances here."

John Doe just looked more and more confused. "You wanted to… Wait a second. You're not a cop? I thought that guy said you were his partner."

"Well, if you want to get all technical," Faith purred as she turned the chair around and sat down – legs spread around the back – across from the prisoner, "I'm doing time right now, but this guy, Ellison, made me a deal. Asked me to help him solve some murder cases, so I figured, 'why not?' He's also a bit of a tight-ass, y'know? Loves to talk and talk and talk 'til you just want to shoot him, right? I'm the alternative. Got something you want to tell me, I'm all ears." Faith leaned forward, giving him a nice view of her cleavage.

John Doe chuckled darkly. "That answers that," he said to himself. "All right. What would you say if I told you that we're not safe here? That a killer robot from the future is the one who killed the rest of my people, and is gunning for me as we speak? Probably also killed those other people the cop showed me in the photos. You're not going to run away screaming, are you?"

"Nah, it makes sense. Jim still has trouble believing that Sarah Connor was right. I'm thinking she was, and I'd bet that you think the same thing."

The guy shook his head and actually smiled. "You know, if anyone else had told me they believed me, I wouldn't have bought it. But coming from you… Well, I think I can trust you."

That got a laugh out of Faith. "You gotta be kiddin' me here. You think a screw-up like me is someone you can trust? You don't even know me!"

"Maybe," the man said mysteriously.

Faith stood up and leaned forward, grabbing the man by the collar of his prison uniform and pulling him forward so that they were close enough to speak in whispers. "You think you know something about me? Spit it out before I knock you out," she snarled.

"I know what you are," the guy said in a hushed voice. "I know who you are, Faith Lehane. One of all too few, to use your own term, 'hot chicks with superpowers' in the world. And I know you're the only person right now who believes me and has any chance of helping me out."

Faith shook the guy's collar in anger. "How do you know any of that?"

"You told me," he said evenly. "You just haven't told me _yet_."

"Time travel," she whispered as she loosened her grip on the guy.

"Yeah. Time travel. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Hey, I've seen crazy. I've been crazy. This isn't even close." Faith released the still unnamed guy and sat back down. "You know my name, do I get yours?"

"Derek."

"Got a last name to go with that, Derek?"

"Yeah."

Faith chuckled. "You wanna do it that way? All right, that's five-by-five with me. So what now? You say this guy who killed your buds is after you now? What's his next move?"

Derek breathed deeply. "Its probably hacked into the police computers by now, so it knows I'm here. It'll come through the front door. That's how they do things."

"Good to know," Faith said. "Could I take it? And what's it look like?"

"Could you take it? Probably not yet," Derek said bluntly. "He looks like a tall, muscular white guy with a really closely-shaved head. If you wanted to fight it, you'd have to know its weak spots, and help would probably go a long way. You could get lucky, but waiting for luck to help you out is a good way to end up dead. If you have a gun, try to hit it in the right eye socket. If you need to get away, electrocuting it will knock it out for a couple of minutes, but then it'll be good as new."

"Thanks for the info. Is he acting alone?"

"This one is. And don't call it 'he.' It's not a man," Derek snarled. "Others out there probably don't even know it's here. They're doing other stuff that probably doesn't overlap. But don't waste your time protecting me. I'm nobody special. You wanna protect someone? Find the guy they really want to kill and protect him. You know who that is?"

Faith nodded. "Yeah, I think so. JC, right?"

Derek chuckled. "That's right. JC, that's him. Convince your friend in the suit to stop hunting them and start helping them."

Faith cocked her head to the side, confused. "Them?"

"Him and his mom. They're out there somewhere, I know it. Find them and keep them safe."

"I'll work on it. What can you tell me about the third part of that group?"

Derek looked Faith straight in the eyes as if he could find some answers there. "Third part?"

"Yeah, some teenage chick. Long brown hair, knows how to handle a gun. If she wasn't jailbait, I'd do her. Ring any bells?"

"Maybe," Derek said darkly. "Look, don't trust that third one. I don't know what she's calling herself now, but she's dangerous, and she's not one of the good guys. You want to help? Find her and get her away from them."

"Really?" Faith crossed her arms and put on her skeptical face. "She looked pretty resourceful to me in the vids I saw. Looked like someone I'd want watching my back."

"Don't believe it. Not one bit!" Derek said hotly. "She manipulates you, gets under your skin. You can't trust her, no matter how convincing she seems. She's the best actor in the world."

Faith smirked. "I know a guy who already has dibs on that claim, but I'll keep it in mind if I ever meet her. You got anything else that'll help?"

"One last thing," Derek said, looking grim. "Don't ever try appealing to its sense of humanity or goodness or whatever. It doesn't have one. It's a soldier on a mission, and it's hardwired into it that nothing else matters. Not its own life, not anyone else's life, nothing at all. It's going to kill me or die trying. And if it fails, it'll try again, no matter how long it takes to get the job done. Killing is what they do. It's _all_ they do."

"Wow. That's sounded intense and yet disturbingly rehearsed. You got a death wish, or are you just jaded?"

"You live through hell, you get jaded," he said flippantly.

Faith smirked. "I've known people who've lived through different kinds of literal and figurative Hell. You should know that words like that won't convince me easily."

"Actually, I don't think I knew that," Derek said with a bit of a sarcastic bite to his words. "My life's been as literally hellish as you can possibly imagine and then some."

* * *

Faith held up her hands, palms facing outward. "Chill out, man. Not looking to make this a competition. Just sayin' that if your life's really been that bad, then yeah, I believe you're jaded. No need to make a scene out of it."

Derek knew that there was some story or another that Faith wasn't telling him about her past, and he thought he'd heard all of her horror stories. Everyone had horror stories after Judgment Day, but Faith's had always been especially colorful, although that was probably at least partially in the way she told the tales. In all the time he'd known her, she never talked much about life before J-Day, but a lot of people were like that.

Still, to see Faith Lehane, super-strong soldier and overall badass, sitting across from him looking possibly i_younger_/i than him, looking as sexy as she did... It was wrong on so many levels. This was not the Faith Lehane that Derek Reese thought he knew.

"So," she said after an uncomfortable pause, "I'm gonna go talk to Agent Ellison – but he likes it when you call him 'Jim,' so you know – and see about getting you somewhere with a lot of firepower to keep you safe until this blows over, and then you and I'll work on educating these idiots and getting rid of all that-"

"Sunnydale Snydrome?" Derek said, cutting her off with a smirk of his own. He'd heard Faith talk about the long-gone town in some of her more incredible stories, usually involving willful ignorance on a large and disturbing scale.

"You know about Sunny D, huh? Five-by-five, baby. Y'know, if you weren't so offended by my wicked good looks, you'd probably be a lot of fun to be around late at night."

The imagery that Faith had just conjured was not something that Derek wanted to think about. "Can you please not do that?" he hissed.

"Do what?" she asked, completely oblivious.

"Talking about us in a sexual way. Look, it's nothing personal." Okay, so that was a total lie. It was personal on a level that he hadn't even thought could exist until today.

Faith merely held up her hands and stood up. "It's fine, hun. You swing towards guys, that's your business. Never met someone who was quite _that_ put off by me, but hey: people tell me that I make a strong impression one way or another, so I guess there's some truth to that."

"Psht. Understatement, thy name is Faith."

She shook her head with a seriousness that was totally alien on her face. "No, I think I would've noticed if I changed my name to 'understatement,' but if I ever have kids, they can blame you for their crappy names. S'long as you're okay with that, I'll do my best to get you on the right side of things with the cops. Deal?"

Noticing that Faith did not extend her hand or make any other gesture towards him, Derek simply nodded. "About as good as I can expect, I guess." He was trying very hard not to react to the implication that he was attracted to men. While not exactly an insult, it just wasn't who he was. And Faith was one of the most attractive women he'd ever… No, no! He was _not_ thinking things like that! That path led only to despair.

"All right. You sit tight, and I'll see you soon." Faith walked over to the door and knocked twice, after which it swung open to let her out. She whispered something to one of the guards before blowing a kiss to Derek and winking as she left.

Shivering with discomfort, Derek didn't notice as the guard came to his side. "What?"

"Girl said your cuffs were on too tight. Told me to loosen 'em."

Chuckling at the irony of Ellison's earlier words, Derek held out his hands and let the cuffs loosen just enough for his chafed wrists to start itching and burning from their harsh treatment.

"All right, let's go. Back to containment until we find out what to do with you," the guard said.

"Yeah, sure." As he walked back to his tiny little cell, Derek wondered how he was going to explain to Faith, assuming he survived to see her again, just what their relationship had been like. Seriously, how did you tell someone that after the world ends in nuclear fire that you're going to find two orphaned young boys and raise them like a mother, or at least a seriously badass older sister?

Somewhere, some-when, Kyle was definitely laughing his ass off at Derek's predicament. Thinking of Kyle made him smile briefly. Derek could at least safely say that he never had a crush on Sarah Connor, no matter what Kyle protested. Wouldn't it be funny if his little brother had traveled across time and met up with the legend herself? Hell, maybe Kyle was actually John Connor's father.

But no, that would just be silly.

* * *

Special Thanks to Oxnate for beta-reading this chapter.

Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoy the story.


	4. Prisoner Transfer

**Chapter Four: Prisoner Transfer**

* * *

When Faith had gone in to talk with the John Doe with the bar-code tattoo, Agent Ellison hadn't expected much. What he'd gotten wasn't something he was entirely sure he was ready to deal with. Faith had rejoined him on the other side of the two-way mirror, and now he had to find some way to try and contain what she'd offered the guy.

"You're lookin' at me all weird, James," Faith said as she sat down across from him. "You okay?"

He snorted. "When you're not encouraging prisoners to call me 'Jim,' you're make deals to protect them from the kinds of threats that only lunatics believe are real. And you offer up Federal aid to make that protection a reality. And if that wasn't enough, you put us out there to try and protect another pair, or possibly a trio, of other fugitives that are in all probability still buried under what used to be a bank."

"Nice try, James," Faith said too casually for his tastes. "I read the reports. The forensics team didn't find any traces of blood or guts or anything, and no sign of any explosives either. If you had an agent out in the field, and you couldn't find his body, couldn't confirm that he'd died, you'd call him MIA, right? How hard is it to admit that the Connors didn't die? They just got away, is all."

"Thank you for pointing out to me how thoroughly I botched that particular case, Lehane." Ellison could swear he felt a serious migraine coming on.

Faith sighed with obvious exasperation. "Just look at this guy, Derek, for a moment. He's not fakin' when he says he's been through some sort of hell, and if I were to guess, nothing you do to him is gonna make him tell you anything you want to hear. So try doing something i_for_/i him instead, and then maybe he'll be nice and try to put the nasty truth into a nice little chart so you can make some sense of it. He's pretty sure he's gonna die, James, and it doesn't scare him as much as it should. Now, keeping the Connors alive, that's something that he'd try to stay alive for. Just suspend your disbelief long enough to get a good look at the situation, Jim!" Clearly upset, Faith got to her feet and started pacing the room.

James sighed, ignoring her use of a nickname for him for the time being. "You did get a name out of him, if not a full one. That'll narrow the search," he said in a pathetic attempt at encouragement. "And if it makes you feel any better, this case is potentially far beyond local jurisdiction. This is all assuming that you're not completely crazy." He shook his head. "There's something here I'm not seeing yet," he muttered to himself.

"You got that right," Faith spat angrily. James turned his head, surprised that she'd heard his soft mumble. "I'm telling you what you're missing. Derek's telling you what you're missing. Sarah Connor's record tells you what you're missing. Your cases full of murdered people tell you what's missing! Why are you even going along with any of this if you don't even believe me?"

"I don't know!" James shouted back at her. Swearing silently for losing control, he steadied his breathing. Yelling like that was not like him at all. "I don't know," he repeated more softly. "Look, you've given me a lot to think about, and I'm taking a lot of what you're telling me on faith, no pun intended. I don't see everything yet, but you tell me that something's out there, and I'm gonna keep stumbling until I find it, if you're willing to help guide me there."

Faith laughed. "I'm trying to show you, James. I'm really trying, but if you're going on again about how faith, and therefore me, is what lets you know that there's more out there than you know… I don't know, that's just putting more on me than I deserve. Even if I was religious, I wouldn't put too much trust in that kind of stuff."

"You're not religious?" James was confused. "Twice now, I've seen you looking skyward, talking to someone up there that I sure couldn't see. I believe God is always here with us, but I doubt you were talking to the same God that I pray to."

"That gonna be a problem?" she challenged him, arms crossed.

"No, Faith. It's no problem. I'm just curious about your beliefs. You clearly feel strongly, but it would help me to understand you – and therefore to understand this case – better if I knew what was going on in that head of yours."

Sighing, Faith sat down on the table, her back to James's face. She turned her head so that her face was at least looking at his own. "My life's just really messed up, mostly because messed it up. I had other people depending on me once, and I let them down. I should be dead, but the Powers That Be gave me a second chance. I almost wasted it, but then a friend – Hell, you could call him my guardian Angel – convinced me to turn myself in, and that's where I've been ever since, trying to make up for the bad I did to even things out. I don't understand the Powers at all, but I figure that they'll only be done with me when I'm dead. 'Til then, I've got work to do, and I'm gonna do it. Might not be your God, but it's something."

"That it is, Faith. That it is," James agreed. "While this all puts our personal feelings into a fresh light, it doesn't solve the issue of what we're going to do about your new best friend, Derek."

"It's simple, ain't it? He says that there's a killer machine on his ass, and that it'll come for him soon. Get him a ride to your nice, safe, lockdown-able office building and have some serious hardware ready to take down anything or anyone that follows him there. Why don't you put him in one of those heavy-duty, bulletproof vans, and stick me in there with him. You've got a couple of prisoners in the back of a prison truck, both headed to the same spot anyway, and I can look after him if he needs looking after."

"And do you want to look after him, Faith?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

James wondered how he was going to put this without upsetting Faith. While he knew he had to get an answer, he didn't want to provoke a prisoner who had a reputation that made fellow inmates think twice about crossing her. It was confusing given her small size. "What I'm trying to ask is if you know this guy. You were talking pretty casually."

The girl sighed, and James thought that for one brief moment she did look like a girl. "He knew stuff about me, okay?"

"He knew stuff," James repeated. "What kind of stuff are we talking about?"

"The kind of stuff where he's convinced me that he knows me," Faith said, though she sounded a bit off.

"He knows you," James said, "but do you know him?"

"No," Faith said in a matter-of-fact way. "Not yet. But my gut tells me to trust him. Look, James. You have stuff you have to take on faith, and so do I."

The cold determination with which she spoke convinced James to drop the issue of her trust in the guy, Derek. "All right. You have faith in this guy, and you have faith that a killer robot is after him. And you want me to let you put that faith to the test in the back of a truck?"

"You know me so well," Faith mock-flirted.

James sighed and accepted the way things were going to work out. "All right. I'll make a call. Get ready. But first, there's one last detail I want to talk to you about, just in case."

* * *

As he sat in the back of the unmoving prison truck, Derek Reese's mind was overflowing with too much information all vying for his attention. He'd met three people in the last hour or so: the black agent named Ellison, then Faith Lehane of all people, and lastly he'd been approached by an impeccably-dressed Sarah Connor. Derek still wasn't sure which visit surprised him more: Faith's or Connor's. One was here by coincidence, the other deliberately, and the latter had him worried. Sarah Connor was far more important than a grunt soldier like him. She should be protecting their future leader, not worrying about just another guy.

The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that Sarah Connor probably wouldn't just let this go. John Connor had risked his life several times to save men and women from Skynet work camps, both before and after they'd been taken. If their fearless leader was anything like his mother, then she wouldn't leave him behind, and that both troubled and inspired him.

And then there was Faith's message about a third person with the two Connors. It had to be the metal that had stolen Allison Young's identity, there was no doubt in his mind. She was too good at what she did, and Derek wasn't even sure that the infamous General John Connor hadn't fallen for her act. And if he had, and if he'd sent her back here, then they were in deep shit to say the least. The fact that Derek even thought of the metal as 'her' was disturbing enough.

The back door of the truck opened and Derek turned to see… "Faith?"

"Hey, Derek. You miss me already?" The door closed behind them.

"What're you doing here?" he asked as the truck began to move.

"Makin' sure nothing kills you on the way to a nice, safe, heavily armored Federal facility, or so I'm told," she said with her usual smirk in place.

"And since when," Derek had to ask, "do you ever do what you're told?"

"Since mind your own fucking business, Derek," she growled harshly. "You think you know me, right? Just how much do you know anyway? We're alone now, so you might as well spit it all out. I'm putting myself on the line for you, so be a good boy and come clean."

It was amazing how Faith could talk down to him and make him feel like a child again, despite her looking his age or younger. She'd been tough on him and Kyle as kids, but never just for toughness's sake. There was always a lesson to be learned with her, even if she didn't know she was teaching it. Derek wouldn't have made it to his fifteenth birthday if not for Faith and her tough love. Why someone like her had decided to look after a couple of random kids, he'd never learned.

"You okay there, Derek? Your mouth's kinda just hanging open. Am I supposed to toss popcorn in there, see how many points I can get?"

Closing his jaw, Derek glowered as he felt humiliated again. "Look, it's complicated," he said. "You just… You mean a lot to me. Not in a romantic or sexual way, but we were close for a while. You helped me out of a lot of tough spots. I owe you my life a hundred times over, and even if you don't know me yet, I trust you."

"And still I ask," Faith scolded him, "how much do you know about me?"

Derek withered under her stern tone. Had his own mother ever taken this tone with him? The fact that he couldn't remember chilled him deeply. "You told me stories about growing up in Boston. You had to fight to keep alive on the streets. Absent dad, drunken mom, no real friends until you moved to Sunnydale, which you claim used to be a town instead of just a tourist attraction."

"Uh huh." Faith sounded interested now. "What else did I tell you about Sunnydale?"

Derek looked at her and wondered why she cared enough to ask. "You said it was where you found out who you were. Met someone like you, as far as the strength goes. Met her friends, took on the gangs of the city in a 'take back the night' kind of vigilante movement. Gangs ran the town, the Mayor ran the gangs. You told me how you'd fallen off the side of the road and hooked up with the Mayor for a while because he treated you decently. You did some stupid stuff that you didn't go into detail about, but you went to LA for a few years after that and came back long enough to evacuate the last few people from Sunnydale before a bunch of underground fissures caused the whole down to collapse in on itself."

Derek remembered when he was seven years old, his parents had taken him to Sunnydale National Park, which included tours around the great hole in the ground that they said had once been a small town. Scientists thought it was amazing because of how perfectly round the hole was, but Derek hadn't really cared about the science at the time. All he knew was that there was a giant hole in the ground, and that it looked like a crater might have looked on the moon.

After Judgment Day, Skynet had commandeered the Sunnydale Crater and turned it into one of the largest work camps in the Western Hemisphere, or so he'd heard. Supposedly, Skynet had built a metal floor to cover the crater at ground level and had a massive fire constantly burning underneath it, filling the entirety of what had once been the town. When the workers became too ill or too weak to go on anymore, they'd become fuel for the great furnace.

"Where I come from," Derek said carefully, "Sunnydale isn't a crater anymore. It's been filled up with a never-ending fire. People go there and don't come back. You swore that you'd never let anyone be taken there if you could help it. You called it a Hellmouth, and the term stuck. It's not called Sunnydale anymore, and it's not called a crater. It's just 'the Hellmouth.' Parents warn their kids that if they aren't careful, that they'll be taken there to burn."

"Damn, that's messed up!" Faith certainly hadn't lost her touch for understatement. "Is that where you come from? Sarah Connor said that the bombs would fall and wipe out half the world, and then her son would lead us to victory over the machines. You from that future, Derek?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm from that future."

Faith let out a long, low whistle. "And now, you're tryin' to stop it from happening again, right?"

Derek felt strange spelling everything out to the woman who'd always explained the workings of the world to him growing up. "Yeah, that's right."

* * *

"Well, good thing I'm here, then," Faith said without any humor. "Preventing the apocalypse is kinda my day job. I'd hate to have gotten…"

"What is it?"

"Shut up a sec," she hissed at Derek. The guy was certainly a fountain of interesting info. And he was a puzzle, too, given the way he acted around her. Most guys either had trouble speaking around her or else they couldn't shut up. Derek was something else, and it had to do with whatever time he'd spent with her in the future.

Right now, thoughts of Derek would have to wait. "There's another vehicle pulling up right behind us. I think I hear someone getting ready to…"

The truck shook slightly as a thud came from the back of the truck, as if something had hit it. Faith got into a fighting stance, but nothing came through the back door. Footsteps crossed the roof of the truck and then landed on what Faith guessed was the hood, given how the truck came to an abrupt stop.

Faith heard glass breaking followed by the doors in the front cabin opening. She put herself between Derek and the front of the compartment they were in, readying herself for whatever came through that door.

Instead of the big, hulking man that Faith had expected, the brown-haired girl from the bank security video was there. This was the one that Derek had warned her not to trust.

"What are you doing here?" the girl asked in a curious monotone.

"Better question," Faith countered. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing him," the girl said as she stepped towards Derek.

Faith moved to stop her, and Derek was soon on his feet with a gun in his cuffed hands. Looked like one of the guards up front had dropped it.

"Whoa! Easy, people," Faith said, stepping between the two stone-faced fighters, for there was no mistaking that both Derek and this girl had both seen some sort of hell, given how they moved.

"She's on our side," a new voice added from the driver's seat. A brown-haired woman looked back at Derek, and Faith suddenly found Sarah Connor glaring at her. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Me?" Faith asked as innocently as she could. "I'm just here to prevent Derek here from getting hurt by any killer robots from the future that might be chasing him. And since I think you're here to do the same, why don't we all hightail it outta here."

"Good idea," the girl said. "Let's go, Sarah."

"You know her?" Connor asked.

"You know me?" Faith challenged.

"Yes. Now, drive," the girl said with a touch of urgency.

Sarah growled something that Faith couldn't make out before seeing something in the rearview mirror. "Triple-Eight," she said to the girl, handing her a submachine gun. "Lose him."

The as-yet-unnamed girl moved into the back compartment with Faith as Derek took the front passenger seat, stopping just long enough to cast a careful look at Faith.

"So," she asked the blank-faced girl. "We take him together, all right?"

The girl readied her weapon and kicked open the back door. "Five-by-five," she said before opening fire at a man in an orange prison jumpsuit who was running towards them faster than any human had any right to run without stopping or slowing down as bullets ripped holes in his clothing. His movements were too precise and, well, too robotic to be anything but a piece of machinery.

Mystery-girl closed the doors again as the truck took off. Faith could hear well enough to know that the man-machine had caught up to the truck and jumped onto the back.

As the door opened, Faith's foot was already rounding through the air to smack the machine in the side of its head. Her foot hurt like hell, but the impact was enough to knock it into the wall and almost send the truck onto its side.

Mystery-girl was on top of the robot before it could make a move, grabbing it with both hands and throwing it in the other direction. The truck wobbled again from the impact. Faith swore silently at the girl's strength. She had to be a Slayer; there was no other explanation Faith could think of.

Mystery-girl tossed the robot back to the other side of the truck and it fell to the floor. "Restrain him," she said to Faith before putting her foot down on the thing's head.

Faith obeyed and threw herself on top of the guy, pinning him down between her thighs while she held his wrists together with her hands. Given the sounds this guy was making as he hit the sides of the truck, Faith was surprised at how easily she was able to keep him from moving. Granted, it was still a hellishly difficult endeavor, but it was a few steps up from the impossible feat she'd been expecting.

Mystery-girl's boot pushed the thing's head through the metal of the truck until sunshine peeked through a hole in the side. Sarah Connor must have seen it in the mirror, since she drove the truck a few lanes over until Faith saw another truck. She waited for the head to sever upon contact with the other vehicle.

Faith was surprised again as the head stayed on, letting off sparks as its scalp was burned away to reveal the metal underneath. "Holy shit!" It was one thing to read about this stuff, and another to see it on video. Hell, Faith thought she'd been prepared when Buffy had told her stories about the sexbot that some creep had made in her image. The reality of this machine – this Terminator – was far freakier than anything had prepared her for.

In her distraction, one of the robot's arms got free of Faith's grasp, but it was only able to slip out the hole in the truck, and then only long enough to get clipped by a chain on the other vehicle and come clean off. There was no gushing of blood, no cries of pain or any sound of any kind coming from the man-machine. _This is some seriously messed up shit._

The impact of the wrist against the other truck was enough to send the prison vehicle wheeling out of control until it ground to a halt on a side street.

"Hold him down," mystery-girl ordered Faith.

"No sweat, girlfriend," Faith called as she struggled against her silent metal adversary while the other Slayer got out of the truck. "Yeah, no problem here. Not like I haven't handled worse." Silently, Faith remembered her fight against the Beast, and she wondered how punching against the metal of a robot would compare to punching against the solid rock body of that particular monster.

Faith was able to see out of the hole in the truck just enough to see mystery-girl pry open a circular hatch in the robot's head with a switchblade.

"Pliers," the girl ordered, and someone handed her the tool with which she reached in and grabbed a small rectangular component before pulling it out of the machine's head.

As soon as that thing was out, Faith felt the robot go slack, but she wasn't letting her guard down. "Is it dead yet?" she called out.

"Deactivated," Derek said. "You can get off it now. It can't do anything anymore."

Faith pushed herself off of the robot's body and found herself aching all over. The thing had put up more resistance than she had realized at the time. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was starting to feel the stress she'd been under.

Taking panting breaths, Faith moved to the open back door of the truck to find Sarah Connor pointing a pistol at her. "What are you?" she demanded.

Faith almost laughed, but not quite. "I'm tired as all hell after keeping that thing down for you. You're welcome, by the way. Mind pointing that thing somewhere else?"

"Shut up!" Damn, but Connor was pissy. "Who the hell do you think you are, barging into this? You just show up, and you just happen to be able to keep one of them down, _right_? What are you, and what the hell do you want?"

"Okay, listen lady. I didn't 'barge into this,' okay? I was just trying to keep my new buddy Derek safe from the big nasty robots when you hijacked our ride. You want the truth? I had a deal with the cops. I help them solve a bunch of strange murders, and they make my life just a tiny bit easier. That was the pitch, anyway."

"She's not here to arrest you," Derek said carefully, putting his hand over Connor's wrists. "Put the gun down. She's on our side."

"Saw your file," Faith admitted. "Cops think you're nuts. I don't. Tried to convince 'em you got the right of it, but people don't wanna see something, then they don't see it. Doesn't matter how much you shove in front of them, some people just don't listen. And I'm thinking that might include you if you don't put down the fucking gun already!"

Sarah didn't put the gun down, but she did gesture with it. "Into the Jeep. Cameron, get the metal."

Faith arched an eyebrow. "Cameron, huh?" she said to mystery-girl. "Thanks for the help. I'm Faith, but I think you know that."

"I do," she said bluntly. "And you're welcome."

Faith parted her hands and smiled. "See? Girl has manners. I like her." Slowly inching herself out of the truck so as not to startle Sarah, Faith moved to the back seat of the Jeep where a kid who had to be John Connor was waiting for them.

"So," the kid asked. "You both from the future?"

"He is," Faith said. "I ain't. Name's Faith."

"Right." The kid wasn't giving anything away yet.

Cameron came back hauling the dead robot over her shoulder with one arm before tossing it in the back of the Jeep and getting into the front with Sarah in the driver's seat.

"Tie her wrists," Sarah ordered her son, handing him a thick plastic tie. "And blindfold her."

Derek leaned forward. "You don't have to-"

"Not another word. Not yet," she ordered. "Do it!"

Faith just put her hands in front of her and allowed the kid to bind her wrists and wrap a cloth around her head.

"When we get where we're going," Sarah said in a low, dangerous voice, "we're going to have a nice, long chat, okay?"

Faith just smiled. "Can't wait."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," James Ellison asked the driver of the prison truck that had been carrying two potentially vital assets to a number of unsolved murders. "You and your partner were disabled by two Caucasian females, each about five foot six, who then commandeered your vehicle and made off with your prisoners. Do I have that right?"

The driver shifted uncomfortably and nodded silently.

James muttered a curse under his breath. "Get someone to look at your head and then head back to the station. I'll debrief you fully later on, understood?"

"Yes, Agent," the poor man mumbled.

Stretching out his arms, Ellison walked over to the side of the road where he saw a glint of what might have been metal. Leaning over, he carefully examined what looked to be the most complex prosthetic hand he had ever seen. The skin even looked real.

"Get me an evidence bag!" he called back to the police who had accompanied him.

As the local police came and bagged the hand, James pondered what had happened. Two females, possibly Sarah Connor and her one-time-teenage accomplice, if Faith was to be believed, had hijacked the prison truck and then taken off to who knows where in another vehicle with both Derek No-Last-Name and Faith Lehane in their custody.

While there were too many variables and uncertainties for his tastes, James Ellison had to admit that it had all gone exactly as planned.

* * *

Thanks to Oxnate for beta-reading this chapter. I hope you all like it!


	5. Workout

**Chapter Five: Workout**

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"No, Faith," Cameron replied. "We're not there yet."

"How many times are you going to keep asking that?" the boy who was probably John Connor asked.

"I'm gonna keep asking as long as you have me bound and blindfolded," Faith protested. "Look, I'm into a little bondage as much as the next gal, but if there's no fun, then I don't see the point."

"Just shut up," Sarah ordered.

"Look, your buddy Derek seems to think I'm all right, doesn't he? And I did kinda help you take down that robot earlier. Under most circumstances, I think that'd earn me at least a 'thank you.'"

"I told you to shut up!" Sarah barked again.

"Ye-ah, not gonna happen," Faith said snidely. "I don't do the whole taking orders thing that well, all right? You want answers from me, I'll give 'em as best I can. Just answer me one thing, and then I promise I'll be quiet for, oh, another five minutes."

"Don't bother arguing with her," Derek said. "She's gonna ask it anyway."

Sarah growled. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes," Cameron said. "We've just arrived."

"Thanks, Cam. You really have the whole Zen thing down, don'tcha? You remind me of this guy I used to know. Never lost his cool, 'cept when the full moon came out, and then all bets were off."

"That's one way of putting it," John said guardedly. "I'm going to guide you so you don't trip and fall. Please don't try anything, okay?"

Faith smiled. "Since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse? Lead the way."

John took her by her bound hands and led her out of the Jeep into what felt like a garage, given the solid pavement she felt beneath her feet and the lack of light seeping through her blindfold. A step up put her into what she guessed was a house. It had a distinct house-like scent to it, but not as nice as Buffy's.

A hand that was not John's shoved Faith by her shoulder down onto a small sofa. The blindfold came off and Faith got to stare up into Sarah Connor's unsmiling face. If she wasn't looking to give Faith the third degree, she might've been sexy.

"Start talking. Who are you, what are you, and what do you want?"

"Y'know," Faith said in mock-thoughtful voice, "I was gonna answer that, but wouldn't you know it, some bitch decided that she has to be the boss of me and tie me up after I helped save her life. I've already scratched your back, so if you want another scratch, then I suggest you try playing nice."

That earned her a smack across the face. "Go to hell," Sarah snarled.

"I'd really rather not," Faith retorted. "Which is kinda why I'm here, if you must know. Preventing the apocalypse, making sure the machines don't kill us all. Not my usual fare, but hey, I'm game to try."

Sarah laughed a bitter, snarky sound. "You have no idea what the hell you're talking about do you?"

"Hey, I'm just going by what I read in your file, Sarah. You went into quite a bit of detail back at Pesacadero. Probably didn't help things by getting all violent, but your story held up all that time. Given what Cam and I just took down, I'm thinking you were right all along."

"Like hell you do!"

"Y'know, for someone who tried for years to convince everyone that the world was gonna end, you sure have a funny way of treating the people who actually do believe you."

"She does have a point, mom," John said carefully. "How often do we find someone who isn't from the future who doesn't think we're crazy?"

Sarah was having none of it. "How can we know anything about her, John?"

"You could always ask me," Faith prompted. "But then you'd have to believe me, and I'm thinking your default setting with that is 'no way.'"

"She's not a machine," Cameron said in that monotone that made Faith wonder what sort of damage the girl had in her past.

"And we just have your word for that," Sarah snarled. "Not good enough."

"You have mine, too," Derek said.

"All right, that's worth slightly more, but still not enough. We don't know you, Reese."

"Reese?" Faith queried. "You related to Kyle Reese, Derek?"

That remark earned Faith another slap across the face from Sarah. "What do you know about Kyle Reese?" she snarled.

"How many times to I have to say it, Sarah: I. Read. Your. File."

"Wait a minute: you knew my brother?" Derek asked Sarah.

Faith looked from face to face to gauge everyone's reactions. Sarah was torn between fury and something that might have been regret. Derek looked hopeful, John looked like he was trying too hard to hide his thoughts, and Cameron looked blank-faced.

"I knew him," Sarah said tersely, but Faith thought she detected the hint of a warm emotion in there. "He saved my life from a Terminator in 1984 before John was born. He dealt it a crippling blow just before he… He died a hero, Derek."

Derek swore under his breath. "He always wanted to meet you, did you know that? He used to carry a photo of you wherever he went. Good luck charm. Don't know why Connor gave it to him. Guess I never will."

"By Connor," Faith said, "you mean the kid, right? Only not yet."

"Right," Derek said quietly, making an effort not to look at John.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Cameron said softly, though her face betrayed no emotion.

"You shut your mouth!" Derek shouted.

"Whoa, chill out, Derek! Girl saved our asses from that thing back there. That's gotta earn her a few points. But I'm getting that Sarah here has a problem with strong women who ain't her."

"Just the ones who are stronger than humans have any right to be," she snarled.

"And that _thing_ isn't like you, Faith," Derek snarled. "It's metal, pretending to be all nice and house-trained. Don't ever let yourself think she's human for a second, because it's the last mistake you'll eve make."

"Seriously?" That was news. "You're a killer robot too, huh? How come you're not trying to kill us all?"

"I was captured and reprogrammed by the Human Resistance," Cameron said. "I was sent back to protect John from Skynet's Terminator's. Now we're attempting to preemptively fight Skynet."

Faith nodded. "All right. So, they flipped a switch, made you one of the good guys? Reminds me of this one guy I know. He's kinda like my own guardian Angel. Had a bit of a rough deal where one wrong step could turn him into a serial killer. Was hell to get him back to normal, but we did. But, that's not really anything you need to know about. Important thing is that s'long as you're not trying to kill me, I won't try to kill you. That all right with you?"

"Yes."

"Five-by-five, then."

"When the two of you have stopped bonding over murder and mayhem," Sarah snarled, "can we get to the question of what the hell you are? No human should be able to keep a machine down like you did. John, get a steak knife."

"What're you going to do? Cut me and see if I bleed?" Faith asked sarcastically as the kid went into the kitchen.

"Actually, yes."

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected. She looked to Cameron. "You don't bleed?"

"I have no veins or arterial vessels, and no heart to pump blood through them. Blood makes up my outer sheathe, but it doesn't flow."

Things were starting to make sense. "And your blood isn't real blood, is it? Your red blood cells aren't real, are they?"

"How do you know that?" Cameron asked with a tilt of her head.

When John returned with a knife in his hand, Faith held out her hands, palms upward. "I'll tell you after you guys bleed me, 'kay? And a bandage would be nice so that I don't bleed to death. From what I hear, it's not a good way to go. So, let's get this over with nice and quick, all right, kid?"

John didn't look all that enthusiastic about cutting into her. From what Faith could gather, the kid looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and didn't know how to deal. Hell, the only reason Faith hadn't run away screaming when Diana had found her was because her first Watcher had actually been a classy lady who treated her right and knew how to comfort her. Sarah Connor didn't seem quite so soft.

"I'll do it," Derek offered, holding out his hand for the knife.

John nodded numbly. "Thanks."

"You're gonna have to get a stomach sooner or later, or else we're all dead," he said gravely before kneeling next to Faith. "Just a quick cut across the palm, okay? You've had worse, right?"

"Again with you knowing things about me," Faith said dangerously. "Just do it."

Derek gently took the knife and laid the blade across Faith's left palm, pressing down just enough for it to cut through the outer layers of her skin as he slid it across her hand.

When he removed the knife, Faith showed her bloody cut to everyone present before turning it on its side to let her blood drip out onto the carpet. "Happy now?"

"Not yet," Cameron said, her head tilting sideways again in a curious sort of way. "How do you know about my blood?"

Faith shrugged. "I don't know if it was you or another robot, but the cops got samples of that fake blood and are using it to tie a bunch of crime scenes together. That's why they sprung me. They thought that…"

"Wait a minute," Sarah interrupted. "Sprung you? As in from jail?"

"As in," Faith confirmed. "But let's not forget that I'm not the only one accused of a crime here. And unlike everyone else, I planned to do my time. The cops asked for my help, and I figured that I've messed up enough that I owed it to them to help prevent people from being killed. Seemed like the nice thing to do, y'know?"

"What sort of help did they ask for?" John asked. The kid was quieter than he probably should be if he was gonna become some great messiah. Faith thought she should get Buffy to talk to him.

"At first, they just wanted to compare my blood against yours," she said, gesturing at Cameron with her bound hands as more blood fell. "And again I ask: bandage, please?"

"On it," John said, hurrying off to somewhere else.

Sarah didn't look happy at her son taking orders from Faith, but she didn't make an issue of it. "What's so special about your blood?"

"Couldn't tell you. Never got the results back. I can tell you that I heal faster than most people, and I'm stronger than most, too. The tests they ran on the fake blood made 'em think that someone with it would heal fast, so I guess they wanted to see if I was connected or anything."

"Strong," Sarah said slowly. "Strong enough to break those ties on your wrists?"

"Here," John said, returning suddenly with a bandage.

"Thanks, kid," Faith said, holding still while he put the bandage on her. "And I don't know. Never had this kinda strap-thing on me before. I could probably do it, though."

"Why haven't you?" Sarah asked, seeming utterly confused.

"Because I didn't want to get shot," Faith said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You seemed a bit too ready to pull the trigger for a while."

"She's a Slayer," Cameron said.

Faith whipped her head around to stare at Cameron. Noticing that John had finished bandaging her up, Faith decided to test her strength and broke her bonds with minimum effort. She then got to her feet and readied herself for a fight. "How do you know that?" she asked the machine, a hint of fear in her voice. Faith ignored the sound of Sarah raising a gun at her.

"You told me," Cameron said in that disturbing monotone. "That, and your strength and speed mark you as one. You're one of the best there ever was."

"Really? You don't say," Faith said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "From where I'm standing, I'm not the best of role models. I don't know who you think you know from some future where I apparently know you and you," she said, gesturing at Cameron and Derek, "but you clearly don't know anything about me if you think I'm one of the best."

"You survived," Cameron said simply. "Slayers were high-priority targets. They offered the highest resistance quotient of the surviving humans. Some couldn't adapt to Skynet's tactics. You did."

"That's putting it mildly," Derek said softly. "Faith kept me alive in situations that would have killed most. Hell, some of the tactics she's fought against _did_ kill a lot of people, but where we were all too scared to shoot straight, Faith saw what the metal was up to and got us out alive. She has a knack for seeing patterns."

"Aww. Thanks, sweetie," Faith flirted with Derek. "You really do know the way to a girl's heart. And could you please put down the fucking gun, Sarah?" she groaned. "If I wanted to hurt you, I probably would've tried by now, and then Cam probably would've killed me."

"She's right," Cameron said. "Are you all right, Derek?"

"Both of you: shut up!" Sarah shouted.

Faith ignored her. "He's probably just all bothered because I was flirting with him," Faith said. "It's kinda sexy seeing him all flustered."

"S-stop that!" Derek protested.

"Sorry," John chimed in, "but what is a slayer?"

"Long story short? A rare breed of girls with superpowers. We got extra strength, speed, endurance, senses, and a bit of a danger sense that isn't always accurate. Probably a few things I missed, but that's the main stuff." Faith decided that now was hardly the time to delve into the world of the supernatural. She'd let this group draw their own conclusions for now, unless Derek and Cameron already knew more than they were letting on.

"Right," Sarah said, clearly not believing it. "There just happens to be some sort of genetic disorder out there that nobody's ever documented, and you just happen to be one of them."

"Never said it was genetic," Faith countered, trying to sound neutral. "Don't really know how someone gets Chosen; it just happens to some people." _Shit. Why did I have to say 'Chosen,' dammit?_

"What do you mean by 'it happens'?" John asked. "Could it be something you ate or inhaled that made you into a… And what's with that name? Why 'slayer'?"

Faith held up her now separated hands, trying to ignore Sarah's gun trained on her. "Hey, I didn't make up the rules or the name. And I don't think it's something in the air or the food. I became a Slayer when I was seventeen. I felt invincible, thought I could do whatever the hell I wanted, so I did. Fell in with some bad people, made a lot of mistakes, hence the being in prison."

"You're still not answering a lot of questions," Sarah growled.

"The way I see it, future me didn't tell any of you about certain things, and I'm guessing she had good reasons. I like to think I know a thing or two about myself, so why don't we just count it as a good thing that I can possibly go toe-to-toe with Cameron and live at least long enough to get away if I have to. No offense, Cam. Just that, hey, I don't know any other killer robots to name off."

"Thank you for explaining," Cameron said. "No offense was taken. Would you care to spar?"

"Spar?" John sounded like he couldn't understand what the robot girl was saying. "Since when does a Terminator spar with anyone?"

"You can't be serious," Sarah said with such disbelief that she lowered her gun, probably without realizing it.

"Since she asked me to. You did ask me, Faith, in the future. After too long without a fight, you would need to get physical. I obliged."

"Really?" Faith said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Just how physical did we get, Cam?"

"Not that physical."

"Damn! Eh, probably for the best. Is it technically cradle-robbing if you're not exactly a teenager?"

"I don't know," Cameron answered. "I've never robbed a cradle before."

Derek spat in disgust somewhere behind Faith, who ignored him. "So, you got a backyard or a basement or someplace we can show everyone what we're capable of?"

"There's a small clearing out back," Sarah provided, now sounding more curious than hostile. "Not really a yard, but let's see if you really are all that you say you are."

"Hey, I know how good I am," Faith said. "This is for your benefit. But Cam, go easy on me, okay? I'm guessing you've probably seen all my moves before."

"Not all, but most," the cyborg acknowledged. "You always hold back something in case you need to use it against me someday."

* * *

"Isn't that such a comfort?" Sarah remarked. This Faith woman was hardly the ideal soldier at first glance. She dressed like a cross between a biker and a cheap hooker, and her attitude matched that sentiment pretty nicely.

And yet, she had thrown herself atop a Triple Eight and successfully restrained it, and she wasn't a machine herself. She couldn't be taller than Cameron or herself, so how did a human woman that size get so strong? Being a 'slayer' wasn't a good enough answer.

"This way," Cameron said, leading Faith to the outside area in the back. Sarah shrugged and followed, tucking her pistol into her belt and picking up a shotgun.

"Reese," she said quietly to the man they'd just rescued, taking care not to be overheard by the other woman or the metal, "you know them? Both of them?"

"Yeah, I do," he said tersely.

"Are they telling the truth?"

"I thought you didn't trust me yet," he shot back with a mild glare.

"I trusted your brother, and that counts for more than I was willing to admit at first," she confessed. "So tell me about Faith."

Derek sighed, as if getting ready for a long story. "After the bombs fell, Kyle and I spent a few weeks just trying to find food, shelter, protection from gangs of scavengers who would steal whatever they could. We were eating some rice out of a pot that this old guy was sharing with everyone when some thugs come and try to take it all.

"One of 'em tried to take Kyle's food, and I stood up and got in his way. Got smacked across the face, hit the ground. By the time I got up, all ten or so of the thugs were down for the count. Some of them were armed, and this woman is standing over their bodies, poised like someone out of a martial arts movie. She checked on us to see if we were all right, and she didn't leave our side for years. Kept us alive long enough for us to grow up and fight back."

"So Faith," Sarah said, trying to piece things together, "is what? Your protector? Your mother?"

"A bit of both," Derek said without blinking,

"Do you trust her?"

"With my life," Derek said without hesitating. "And so did Kyle."

Kyle Reese had trusted this woman, or so his brother claimed. They looked enough alike that Sarah didn't doubt his identity. It was something to go on, at least. "It's a start," she acknowledged.

"Watch them," Derek said as they exited the house to find the so-called slayer and the metal facing each other.

Sarah held her shotgun at the ready, just in case, as Faith closed one fist, placed it against her other open hand, and bowed to Cameron. Sarah had to resist the urge to vomit as the machine copied her gesture.

Sarah saw John next to her, leaning back against the wall of the house. She wondered if her son had also trusted Faith in the future.

The two women – _No, one woman and one machine_ – circled each other. Faith held her arms up to guard herself, while Cameron seemed to feel no such need to do the same.

Faith struck first with a flurry of punches so fast that all Sarah saw was a blur of motion. Cameron did not give any ground, but her torso did move just enough to indicate a reaction to being hit by Faith's fists. The fact that Faith wasn't clutching her hands in pain at striking a metal body was in itself astounding. Taking on a Terminator unarmed seemed to be the height of stupidity, but Faith had never faced one before today.

Cameron struck back, swinging her arms like bludgeons. Faith ducked and sidestepped the machine's blows and lashed out with a kick to the metal's torso. Sarah felt her jaw drop when Cameron went flying back through the air to land on her back.

"Come on, Cam," Faith taunted. "I know you can do better than that. I've known you for an hour, maybe, and I know you're holding back."

"You told me to go easy on you," Cameron replied as she got to her feet.

"Yeah, but don't hold back completely. I gotta know what you can do. You game?"

Cameron responded by stalking towards Faith and launching herself into a series of almost balletic kicks and punches that Sarah would have called graceful if Cameron had been human. The notion of a machine with grace shook Sarah to her core, and yet she couldn't turn away from the spectacle.

Faith blocked each of Cameron's blows with her own limbs, giving a bit of ground with each one. Cameron had to be holding back for Faith to not be on the ground by now.

The machine surged forward to try and grapple Faith, but the 'slayer' jumped impossibly high over the metal's head, doing a somersault in midair, and kicking Cameron in the back on her way down before landing on one knee.

Cameron stumbled one step but did not fall over again. She turned around quickly and jumped into another series of acrobatic kicks that had Faith on the defensive before one hit her in the chest and this time sent Faith flying through the air onto the ground.

Cameron was on her in an instant with her hand around Faith's throat, lifting her into the air with her left arm. "Yield," she said tonelessly.

Faith's response was to kick out at Cameron's left bicep with her left leg, causing her to lose her grip on Faith's throat. It was short-lived victory as Cameron brought her hands down onto Faith's shoulders. The other woman struggled, but was forced to a kneeling position on the ground. Faith pushed against Cameron's arms with her own hands, but it wasn't enough.

"Yield," Cameron said again.

"All right!" Faith said. "Uncle, already. I yield!" she shouted.

Cameron removed her hands from Faith's shoulders and offered her a hand to help her to her feet. Faith took it. "That was you holding back?"

"Yes. Many of the tactics you used against me in my past were developed in your future."

"Damn, that's bitter. How many others like you have fought against someone like me?"

"Not many."

"Good. Whew. That was the best workout I've had in years. You got some mad moves, Cam."

Sarah had to silently agree with Faith's statement. Cameron had definitely shown 'mad moves.' Acrobatic grace from a machine was just _wrong_ on so many levels. The fact that Faith had held her own against such an onslaught was impressive to understate the matter. Whatever a slayer was, Sarah was glad that this one was on her side, or so she claimed.

"How did you do that?" Sarah had to ask. Faith moved like no human she'd ever seen before, save maybe for an Olympic athlete.

Faith merely shrugged. "I'm a Slayer," she responded, and only now did Sarah hear the respect she gave the term. The world 'slayer' had suddenly gained a capital S, and she now understood why, at least in part. "So, you got a shower I can use? After fighting a killer robot in a truck and then fighting another just now, I probably stink more than a little."

Sarah gestured with her head. "Upstairs on the left."

"Thanks, Sarah. So, you're not gonna shoot me anytime soon, are you?"

"I think I'll take a 'wait-and-see' approach. I don't trust you, but Derek does. That means something."

"What about Cameron? She trusts me."

"She's metal," Sarah snarled, wondering how so simple a concept could elude this woman. "They can't be trusted. Ever."

"Then why's she still here?" Faith challenged her with arms crossed.

"We need her." Sarah turned towards the voice that had spoken the words and found John suddenly standing right there. "I sent her back. I trusted her to protect us. We need her." John shot Sarah a chilling glare before heading back inside.

Sarah was in a state of mild shock. John had never spoken to her like that. Not for a while, and never since… _Never since I tried to destroy the other one's chip back in '97. If I'd done that, the liquid metal would've killed us all._

"Fine," she said. "Just go shower and then get back down here."

Faith gave Sarah a small smile and headed inside without another word. "Great," Sarah muttered to herself. "I'm taking care of my son, his Terminator 'sister,' and now a pair of escaped convicts. Tell me it doesn't get any worse than this?"

"It doesn't get any worse," Cameron said, causing Sarah's head to shoot up and catch the metal's brown gaze.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You asked to be told that things don't get any worse. I told you."

Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "You say that, but is it in any way true?"

"No. Not at all."

* * *

Special Thanks to Oxnate for beta-reading this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy the story!


	6. The Best Medicine

**Chapter Six: The Best Medicine**

* * *

The sound of water from the shower down the hall made John reasonably sure that he could finally talk without Faith overhearing. His mother was interrogating his uncle, and how strange was that! He had another blood relative alive and by his side. But given what his mom had said – and what she hadn't said – about Kyle Reese made John fairly sure that talking about his parentage was not a good idea.

"You look worried, John."

He chuckled to himself at Cameron's facsimile of concern for his well-being. Or was it just an observation? "I was just thinking about Derek and Faith," he answered honestly. "What can you tell me about them?"

"First Lieutenant Derek Reese: operation specialty Tech-Com," Cameron recited. "He's one of your most trusted soldiers, placing a high value on loyalty to you and others he is close with, in particular his brother, Kyle Reese. After his brother was assigned to protect your mother in 1984, Derek became close to suicidal, given that Kyle's operation was classified. He still performed his duties admirably, and you personally chose him to lead a team here in 2007 to eliminate Skynet pre-genesis."

"Uh huh." A man looking to kill himself was not likely to be an asset, so hopefully Derek would be more in control of himself now that he knew something about what had happened to his brother. "And what about Faith? What can you tell me about her and anything else about 'slayers,' whatever they are?"

"Colonel Faith Lehane: tactical logistics specialist and anti-infantry survival instructor. She's one of your best tacticians, and you trusted her to plan many of the Resistance's most important battles, most of which led to victories. She is able to identify enemy patterns and create tactics to evade them, and is an expert improviser. She has taken on infantry Terminator units unarmed or with bladed weapons and survived all such encounters, usually with the destruction of the enemy. She sided with you when you initiated your reprogramming efforts when many other leaders opposed such plans."

John couldn't help but smile at something in Cameron's voice. "You almost sound like you admire her."

"I do," Cameron said. "I also admire you, John."

"Yeah, well…" Okay, why did the heat suddenly spike in the living room? The sun didn't look like it was shining at any new angle. "What about Faith do you admire? And how does a machine admire something, anyway?"

"You and Faith both have many traits that help you to survive in adverse conditions. You help others survive as well. That is one of the main goals of the resistance, and excelling at such things is admirable," Cameron explained.

A small parting of the cyborg's lips, along with a brief flutter of her eyelashes was the only hint that there was something else to Cameron's story. Those signs shouldn't be there on a machine, and yet they were. "What else?" John asked.

"Faith treated me and other reprogrammed machines as if we were human. I was never a machine to her, except for once. Aside from that, she has never treated me any differently than other people. You are the only other human who treats me that way, John."

Now _that_ was unexpected. "What was the one time she treated you like a machine?" John asked carefully.

Cameron tilted her head in a curious manner that she sometimes out of what might have been habit. "She captured me when I attempted to infiltrate your camp and terminate you. Then you scrubbed my memories and reprogrammed me. I would not exist as I currently do without you and Faith."

John had nothing to say to that. Cameron was basically telling him that she owed him her life. How was he supposed to take that? _She's just a machine, right? She can't really feel gratitude, or feel anything at all._ And yet, John was becoming increasingly convinced that Cameron was not like most machines. "And what do you know about Slayers?"

"We look good in leather and we kick ass like nobody's business."

John turned his head swiftly to find an image that he was fairly certain would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life: Faith standing in the hall with a wet mane of hair flowing down her back, naked but for a towel wrapped around her that somehow managed to hug her curvaceous body as if it was skintight as opposed to, well, a towel.

"Do you need to borrow some clothes, Faith?" Cameron asked while John struggled for words.

"That'd be nice, yeah." And then she had to find John's gaze and smirk like a predator. "Like what you see, Johnny Boy?"

"Uh…" _Please, somebody shoot me now!_

Faith chuckled and looked at Cameron. "He's a cute kid, Cam. For his sake, you know, just how anatomically correct are you? I bet John's been dying to ask you but is just too nice to say anything."

"Please, no more!" John managed to make out.

"All right," Cameron said neutrally. "I'll answer your question in my room, Faith," she said with equal monotony.

Faith let out a low whistle. "Nice. Hang in there, JC. We might be a while," she said as she waggled her eyebrows.

Cameron turned to John. "Stay here. I'll be back." So saying, she led Faith to her room, the latter of which managed to turn sauntering into an art form as her hips swayed seductively up the stairs.

"So, John…"

The would-be savior of mankind almost leapt out of his seat as he heard his mother approaching from the kitchen. "Did you learn anything about Faith?"

"Learn anything?" he asked, still a bit numb from his recent exposure to some hidden source of heat.

"Yeah. Rank, assignment, abilities, can she handle a gun?"

"Oh," John said with a breath of relief. "That's all you meant."

"That's all I meant?" his mother asked skeptically. "What else would I mean, John?" Sarah asked sternly.

Derek saved him the trouble of answering. "I think what John is trying to say without really saying anything is, 'I'll be in my bunk.'"

John shot Derek a glare before looking at his mother's amused glance before scowling and heading up to his room to vent his frustrations. Yes, that was what he was about to do. What else could he possibly need to do right now?

* * *

Sarah sighed with equal parts amusement and exasperation as her son headed upstairs to unload his built-up tension, so to speak. "I hope his head is in the game. If that girl's going to be a distraction…"

"Oh, she will be," Derek confirmed. "She's always been a distraction, but that hasn't always been a bad thing. She livens things up wherever she's stationed. She helps us all deal with everything, or at least helps us to take a moment and forget about how crappy things are outside. And she's a literal life saver when it comes down to it, so don't count her out."

"Maybe," Sarah mused quietly. "There is such a thing as too much sexuality, especially around a teenage boy."

"Makes you wonder why he sent back this particular metal out of all the ones he could have," Derek pondered.

Sarah huffed. "Don't think that hasn't crossed my mind. Yes, she can blend in far more than other machines I've encountered, but so long as John always remembers what she is and what she can do, we should be all right."

"Don't let your guard down, Sarah," Derek warned her. "She's good at manipulating people. She blends in well, like you said. Most people easily remember that she's a machine and treat her accordingly. But the ones that don't… That's what worries me."

Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, arching an eyebrow as a silent signal for Derek to elaborate.

Derek sighed. "John trusted her. In the future, that is. She had access to everything. Some of the men thought that she was corrupting him, slowly taking over the Resistance from within."

"They thought that about _her_, did they?" Sarah asked, not missing the use of the female pronoun.

"Yeah. Some did. I wasn't one of them. Connor knows what he's doing, led us to victory after victory. I never saw anything to question his judgment. Don't know why he let the metal so close to him, but I trust him, even if I don't trust the metal."

Sarah noticed a small emphasis on Derek's use of the word 'I' and wondered what he meant by it. "Did someone else you know trust her? Did they get hurt?"

Derek squirmed a bit and wrapped his arms around his torso. "Faith. If metal ever got close enough to see us, she was hell unleashed against them. Always carried a strange weapon with her, like nothing I've ever seen. It was like a sword combined with a pole-ax combined with a spear. She kept swearing that the 'real one' was somewhere else out there, and that her weapon was some sort of cheap substitute. But the way she cut down the metal, I'd be scared to know what the real deal was like."

"Wait, what?! She _cut them down?! _As in with a blade?" Sarah would have called Derek out on his bullshit if he didn't sound so calm and so serious, and if Sarah hadn't seen Faith's incredible strength just hours earlier.

"As in with a blade," Derek confirmed. "But for some reason that I never understood, she was almost chummy with the metal. Faith was the one who insisted on them having actual names instead of just being the numbers they should've been. D'you mind if I get a glass of water?"

"Yeah, sure," Sarah said, trying to digest everything that Derek had revealed so far. Sarah followed him back into the kitchen and watched as he filled up a glass with tap water and then rinsed his mouth out and spat into the sink. "Feel any better?" she asked him.

"Not really," he answered. "Faith can be confusing sometimes, but I've never distrusted her. I can tell you for certain that if the metal ever does show its true colors, Faith won't hesitate to put it down if she can. But then, the Faith I knew had more experience than this one does, and I think she said that she gets stronger as she gets older."

Sarah snorted. "Is that part of being a 'slayer?'" Sarah asked with accompanying air quotes.

"Yeah, that's what she says. I never got the full story about what a Slayer is, or why they have that name, but Faith takes it pretty seriously. It's not just a set of abilities to her: it's also a sort of responsibility to save people from what they can't protect themselves against."

Derek sipped his water and smacked his lips. Sarah idly wondered how scarce fresh water was in the future. "She never told me what her crimes were, but it's always been clear that she's ashamed of whatever it is she did, and she's looking to atone. She won't do anything to hurt you or John."

"Maybe not on purpose, she won't," Sarah countered. "People make mistakes, and those mistakes can be costly with such high stakes. And I'm still not sure if helping the two of you is one of those mistakes or not."

Derek laughed bitterly. "You're saying you're not sure if saving me from a Triple-Eight is a good thing or not? That's cold."

"Not what I meant, Reese," Sarah said dangerously. "I need to know that your head is in the game. I need to know that you won't bring another one of those things down on us."

"If Skynet wanted me and my squad dead that badly, it would have sent more than one Terminator, and they'd be working together. We had just this one after us," he said calmly.

Sarah wasn't mollified. "And you're absolutely certain you won't attract another one? Apart from the Tin Miss, we just ran across our third Terminator in less than two months." Well, technically two months plus eight years, but the 'time lag' hadn't set in yet for her.

"No certainties, but I've been hiding from and later fighting the machines for almost as long as I can remember. I've got my head in the game. Faith's the one I'd worry about."

Now, that was interesting. "I thought you trusted Faith with your life."

"I do," Derek said without hesitation. "But she sometimes leaps before she looks and deals with the consequences later. And right now, she's not the same woman I used to know, and all of this is new to her. She's the most likely to make an amateur mistake. I don't intend to let her."

Sarah nodded her head and took Derek's glass to clean. "See that you don't."

* * *

"Wow." Faith was in complete and total awe. "You really are the complete package aren't you? You sure I'm not makin' you uncomfortable, Cam?"

"If an enemy were to attack us now, I would not be in optimal fighting condition," Cameron said as Faith marveled at her nude form. "I'm going to replace my clothes now."

"Five-by-five. You don't mind if I enjoy the show, do ya?"

"No. You may continue to enjoy," Cameron deadpanned. "And I am not really a 'complete package.' I have enough tissue to simulate a sexual encounter, but I cannot get pregnant or completely replicate a woman's period."

"But you can partially PMS?" Faith asked.

"Yes. I can act hormonally imbalanced and become 'bitchy' if the mission requires it."

"I think I prefer the nice you to the bitchy you. Also probably like it more than the killer you, which I haven't seen yet. Have I?"

"You haven't, and if you're lucky, you won't," Cameron said as she pulled up her pants and reached for her shirt. "Are your clothes to your liking?"

"Cam, honey, if I'd known you had these in your drawers, I would made sure to come up here before we sparred," Faith said, reveling in her snug navy blue denim pants, black leather strapless tank top, light blue denim jacket, and a nice pair of black heeled boots. "You got boots with weighted heels to add a bit of 'oomph' to your kicks?"

"Yes. They've proven effective so far."

"Nice. Might not make a whole lot of difference, but every bit helps, right?"

"Yes. You should get different clothes, or else adjust your tastes."

"What? I thought you liked 'em. Why'd you have them if you weren't gonna wear them?"

"You use your sexuality as a weapon to set others off-balance. You use your body to distract people," Cameron said quietly in her usual monotone. "But it works against John, too. He had to flee to his room to masturbate after seeing you earlier."

"I thought I heard something," Faith remarked with a smirk. "Okay, I got it. I'll dial down the 'tude with JC around. But tell me, Cam: you ever have to use your own feminine wiles to get your way?"

"Yes," she said after the slightest pause. "Most men and some women find my body appealing."

"Including John," Faith remarked with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I have to moderate my appearance around John," Cameron said. "Adolescents are easily distracted by their sexual urges. I don't want to tempt him."

Faith chuckled and sat down on Cameron's bed, patting the space beside her. "Cam, baby, he's tempted already. It's in his eyes, the way he looks at you. He thinks you're a machine, but his body's telling him different. And whatever he might see in me, I'm too old for him. I'll bet he's jackin' off to fantasies of us getting each off on each other."

"I'm just a machine," Cameron said as she sat down next to Faith. "I couldn't 'get off' on you"

"_Just_ a machine? You sound like that ain't enough for you," Faith observed.

Cameron parted her lips just a bit and tilted her head slightly. Faith had noticed her doing this when she seemed to be struggling for an answer. "The safety of the human race is a higher priority than the safety of machines," she finally explained.

"Is that it?" Faith asked skeptically. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to, y'know. You may not be flesh and bones underneath, but you're still a person, and you've been treating me all right so far. Like I said, if you're not trying to kill anyone, I've got your back."

"That is it," Cameron answered a touch too quickly. "But thank you for your compassion. As for your offer of confidentiality, I will keep it in mind. I need to do an errand now. Will you stay here and protect John?"

Faith shrugged. "Yeah, I can look after him while you're gone. Dare I ask what you're off to get?"

"Thermite powder. We need it to destroy the endoskeleton of the T Triple-Eight Terminator that attacked you and Derek Reese earlier today."

"Sounds rough," Faith remarked. It sounded like a science thing, and she was no Willow. "Anyone or anything I should expect to come knocking?"

"Probably not. We will still need to retrieve the left hand of the Triple-Eight unit. I would like your help with that task."

"Five-by-five, Cam."

* * *

Tommy Espinoza was having a slightly better evening than his crappy day had been. It wasn't easy being a traffic cop. Well, okay, the job itself was easy, but dealing with all the crazies in Los Angeles who all thought the law didn't apply to them gave him a headache. The only reason he was marginally happy right now was because he was on his third beer of the night.

"Mind if I join you?"

Tommy turned to his right to find a cute little brunette looking at him. Was she even legal? She had to be to get past the bouncer. _The Yowling Cat_ might not be the classiest of joints, but it was big enough that they had a single bouncer on duty to make sure nobody bribed the bartenders or caused any trouble. Tommy guessed this girl had bribed the bouncer, but damn was she cute to look at.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she repeated, her smile still warm and in place.

"Oh, uh, sure. Go ahead," he said, gesturing to the seat on his right. "I'm Tommy."

"I'm Cindy," she said with a smile. "I'm new in town."

That much was obvious. With her miniskirt and her leopard print tank top, she was just begging for trouble with the wrong sort of guys. Probably a good thing she'd picked him out of all the other dumbasses in the bar.

"You're a cop?" she asked.

Tommy laughed. "What gave it away?"

"The uniform," she said kindly with that warm smile. "Like I said, I'm new in town, and I was wondering if you might be able to show me around."

Was this chick coming onto him? Hot damn, but he was lucky tonight! Maybe the day wouldn't end so badly after all. "That might work. You might want to wait until morning, though. It gets kind of dangerous late at night."

"Cindy!" a husky feminine voice called. "There you are."

Tommy turned and found himself face-to-face with the sexiest, bustiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and she was sashaying her way towards him, turning heads as she walked. "Y-y-you know her?" he asked his new friend.

"Yes. Here I am," Cindy said. "Tommy, this is my best friend, Stella. Stella, this is Tommy. Didn't you always say you wanted to meet a cop in a bar at night?"

Tommy felt his blood rush to his groin as the woman in front of him let her eyes wander all over him. He didn't think he was entirely unattractive. He was fairly muscular and stood at five foot ten, and he was told he had a nice face. Normally, he wasn't too proud of his career. "Once a cop, always a cop," he boasted. "Someone's gotta protect the people, after all," he said, trying to sound modest.

"Ooh. We have a big strong protector man all to ourselves tonight," Stella said as she sat down on his left.

Tommy could only guess what her legs looked like, but the way her jeans hugged her skin left very little to the imagination. She wore a shiny leather tank top, and her arms were toned and muscular. Her right bicep had what looked like a gob of makeup base on it. He grabbed her arm protectively. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking at her arm.

"What do you mean, Tommy?" Stella asked, her voice oozing sex appeal.

"Your arm. It's not… Did you get cut?"

"Just a bruise," she said with a shrug. "Some thugs tried to beat up on us in the street on the way here. Lucky for me, Cindy packs a Taser just in case."

"It pays to be safe," Cindy said sagely.

Tommy felt himself burning with a righteous fury. How dare the thugs who lurked in the streets lay a hand on these wonderful women? "The city can be dangerous at night. Do you two have a place to stay?"

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Stella breathed huskily, leaning in towards him so that he could smell her perfume. "You are just making all of this girl's fantasies come true tonight."

She suddenly leaned in and kissed him, and Tommy found himself kissing her back so passionately that he was convinced he had never kissed a woman before. Oh, he remembered small, meager females who liked to pretend that they knew what sex was all about, but here was the first real _woman_ he had ever met.

"Stella," Cindy whined from behind Tommy. "Don't tell me you're gonna hog him all to yourself? We agreed that we'd share everything when we got to LA, didn't we?"

Tommy felt small hands on his shoulders, and he was suddenly spun around with a force greater than such a small woman should be able to muster. Such pesky things as rational thought quickly faded away as Cindy worked her tongue into his mouth with an aggressiveness that came close to Stella. Not quite as passionate, but damn, did these women have him hard like nothing else.

"So," he said bravely, "you girls wanna head back to my place? It's not too far, but you'll have to ride my bike there."

"Mmm," Stella purred. "Riding your bike sounds great right about now."

Tommy exited the bar with a hot brunette on either arm, not stopping to take notice of the unconscious bouncer lying on the sidewalk, and he ran several red lights as Stella whooped with joy on the back of his bike, with Cindy riding between them.

The elevator ride up to his apartment was excruciatingly long, and when they finally got inside and closed the door, Stella rounded on him. "Strip. Now."

Not even considering for a moment to disobey, Tommy did as he was told, divesting himself of his clothes in record time.

"Good boy," Stella said, picking him up and carrying him over to his bed, which she tossed him onto. It didn't register that a woman her size shouldn't be able to pick him up. That would require thought, and he was too far gone into his passion to give a damn one way or the other. Stella made a show of teasing him as she stripped her clothes off and danced for him.

How long it took before she was finally nude, Tommy didn't know, but it felt like forever. Finally, Stella crawled onto his bed and straddled him with an incredibly well-toned body that curved in all the best ways.

Stella leaned forward and began kissing him up and down his body. "Give us a kiss," she ordered, and he obeyed repeatedly and with great fervor.

Tommy was soon consumed with passion unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he knew he would remember this night for the rest of his life. Even as he felt himself passing out from the toll the night's pleasure was taking on him, he knew that he'd just met the woman of his dreams. She'd make a wonderful Mrs. Tommy Espinoza one day.

The next morning, both Stella and Cindy were gone. Also, Tommy called in sick for work due to lower back pain. It was so bad that he didn't even notice that his uniform was folded at the foot of his bed instead of discarded back near the entrance to his apartment. But damn, if it wasn't all worth it.

* * *

Sarah sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee when Faith and Cameron walked through the door wearing the strange outfits that they had been wearing last night when they left. "Any luck?"

"The hand wasn't at the station," Cameron said. "It's being examined by Agent James Ellison of the FBI."

"No shit?" Faith said. "Same guy who sprung me to investigate you. Hopefully he'll recognize the truth now that it's staring him in the face."

"I doubt that," Sarah said. "And do I even want to know why you're dressed like that."

"Probably not," Faith said.

"We seduced a traffic cop to gain access to his uniform and vehicle. Faith distracted him while I infiltrated the police station."

Sarah held up a hand to tell Cameron to shut up while she sipped her coffee. "Faith was right. I didn't want to know."

"And a good time was had by all," Faith said with a smirk. "Just a thought, Cam; you might want to change before John wakes up. Seeing his cyborg protector pseudo-sister dressed like that might do strange things to him."

"I see. Thank you for explaining," Cameron said as she headed upstairs.

Faith chuckled, earning her a glare from Sarah. "You enjoy this too much, Lehane. This isn't a game."

"Hell, I know that," Faith rebutted. "But you gotta get loose once in a while, or else you go mad. Laughter is the best medicine and all that."

Sarah glowered at Faith. "I don't need any medicine," she said more to herself than to Faith, but she knew that the slutty-looking warrior woman in front of her had a point. Without laughter, without hope or other things that were uniquely human, they would be no better than the machines they sought to destroy. Sarah silently prayed that something soon would give her reason to laugh again. She needed to laugh for John's sake. Nothing else mattered.


	7. The Hidden Language of the Soul

**Chapter Seven: The Hidden Language of the Soul**

* * *

"Hey, Sarah?"

"Can it wait, Lehane?" Sarah asked peevishly. "I'm busy."

"Yeah, you're super busy, what with cleaning your guns for the third time today. I've been waiting, so I've got a favor to ask."

"Do you now?" Sarah put her pistol down and crossed her arms for her latest confrontation with the self-professed 'Slayer.'

"Yeah. I figure that if I'm gonna be spending time helping you with this whole saving the world thing, I'm gonna need a set of wheels, which means an ID. I don't have mine, and if I did, the cops'd be called. You have enough that I'm guessing you've got some fakes somewhere. I want one."

Sarah huffed at Faith's arrogance, ignorance, or was it both? "These don't come cheap, you know. The ones we got cost us over fifty thousand dollars, and that was with a discount."

"For a fake ID? Really? I didn't realize they came that expensive. Or were there some other perks, too?"

Okay, so maybe Faith wasn't as stupid as she looked. "We didn't just get IDs. We got into the federal and state records, too."

"I see," Faith said. "I don't need anything that fancy. Just a regular fake ID and maybe a motorcycle license is all I need. I'm guessing that without the works thrown in, it's a bit cheaper."

"Hmph. Just a bit, right. Cameron can show you the way."

"It's cool. You can give me an address and I'll find my way."

"Faith," Sarah said impatiently, "you seem to be under the delusion that I trust you not to sell us out to the cops or worse. The metal will go with you and make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Faith let out an overly dramatic sigh. "Listen, Sarah: you obviously trust me to some degree, or else I'd be dead by now. Also, the 'metal' has a name: Cameron. You keep treating people like this, it's no wonder they keep trying to kill you."

The pistol Sarah had been cleaning was suddenly in her hands and aimed at Faith. "Was that A, a threat, and B, an implication that machines are people, Lehane?" she snarled.

"No and yes."

"What?!"

"No, I wasn't threatening you. Yes, machines that can think are people. At least, I haven't seen anything that says they're not."

"Obviously," Sarah said, putting the gun back down. "You clearly don't know this enemy."

"Well, then it's a good thing you're so eager to teach me. Chill out, I wasn't serious about that. Just let Cam lead me to this guy who'll set me up, and we'll be cool. I'm sure she'll have plenty to tell me."

"I'm sure she will. Be careful you don't buy into her so easily. These things are made to lie and to kill. It's what they do. It's all they do."

Faith's eyes widened briefly. "Okay, now I'm thinking that Kyle Reese is the guy who said that first. You and Derek have both said that same thing word for word, just about. Sounds like something you both lull yourself to sleep with."

"That's something else," Sarah warned the Slayer. "Cameron doesn't sleep. None of them do. Arm yourself before you think about resting."

"Faith doesn't use guns."

Sarah stood up and had her gun trained on Cameron in an instant. The metal bitch kept getting under her skin. If it was on their side, then why did it have to walk so silently?

"I've been known to use 'em sometimes, but not often," Faith said. "Or are you talking about future me, Cam?"

"Future you prefers to engage in melee combat, but also takes pride in being able to use Skynet weapons as efficiently as a Terminator unit."

"This is all so very charming," Sarah said testily, "but since I'm starting to get a bit annoyed, I need you to take Faith to Carlos's to get an ID."

Cameron tilted her head. "I was going to infiltrate Maria Shipkov's ballet class."

"Well, then take Faith with you and go afterwards."

"What?!" Faith objected. "You want me to dress up like a friggin' ballerina?"

"Yes," Sarah deadpanned. "Now get going."

"Think of it as training," Cameron put in. "You'll learn balance and poise."

"Shit, I already know how to stay on my feet, Cam."

"Knowledge is power," Cameron said sagely. "In the future, I would incorporate dance movements into our sparring matches. When I did, I usually won."

Faith laughed. "All right. Now I gotta go and see if you're shittin' me or not. Fine, let's get going. Take it easy, Connor."

"Don't forget your phone, Lehane."

Faith reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her brand new cell phone for show. "Nothing to worry about, Connor. Let's go, Cam."

Sarah sat back down and went back to cleaning her weapons as Faith and Cameron departed. Only after they had gone did Sarah realize that Faith had stopped calling her 'Sarah' and had addressed her as 'Connor.' Was the so-called Slayer trying to put some distance between them?

If so, then it was for the best.

* * *

"Damn! I'm not against the occasional tight fit, but this is just dumb." Faith was attempting to move about in her black unitard in the changing room at the dance studio and finding it very difficult.

"Most ballet dancers are more slender than you are," Cameron said.

"Shit, when did I get fat?" Faith said, feeling quite disappointed.

"Not fat: muscle. Your body's mass isn't meant for this kind of clothing."

Faith laughed. "Thanks, I think. I guess you don't ever put on weight, do you?"

"No, I don't. I can ingest food and liquids, but I don't need to. My body's weight and mass are constant." Cameron looked around. "The lesson is about to start. Time to go."

"Five-by-five."

Faith followed Cameron out into an open room with a wooden floor with handles on stands – made for balance – facing a wall-length mirror. Faith examined her hair – bound into a tight bun – and posed in front of the mirror. i_Not half bad._/i

The instructor was a pretty Russian woman who had excellent reach and flexibility. Faith had to wonder what she'd be like in bed, but tried her best to focus on the moves that the instructor – Maria Shipkov – was trying to teach them.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Cameron mastered every move perfectly. Maria had to come over and steady Faith more than a few times. She was able to hold her balance well enough, but she tended to take the moves faster than was the norm for ballet. After the first twenty minutes, Faith fell into the rhythm a bit, and found the moves to be quite relaxing. She was imagining doing some of these poses in her spare time as well as incorporating them into future brawls.

Late in the lesson, they started doing some moves along with some music, which made it shockingly easy to fall into a set rhythm of body movements. Faith made an effort to be aware of her body and what it could do, since falling into a pattern was something that could get her killed against a skilled enemy.

The lesson ended at about 1:45, at which point the entire class clapped softly, so Faith joined in to make sure she didn't seem any weirder than she already was. She already looked and felt ridiculous in her outfit, not to mention that most of the people here were still kids. Going on twenty-seven years old, Faith was probably the oldest person in the room save for the instructor and possibly one other student, who was the only man in the class.

As the next class filed in, Faith saw the remaining students simply put their regular clothes over their unitards instead of changing in the back room. Faith decided to do the same while Cameron observed one of the new class members, who was doing a maneuver that was probably a lot harder than it looked.

"What is she doing?" Cameron asked the teacher. Faith wondered if she was really curious or just trying to develop a connection to the teacher.

"Pas de chat," the shapely instructor answered. "Step of the cat."

"Will you show me?" the cyborg asked.

"That is the advanced class," Maria warned softly with a noticeable Russian accent. "You are a beginner, ja?"

"It's probably tougher than it looks, Cam," Faith said, hoping she wouldn't draw too much attention to herself.

Regardless, Cameron duplicated the move step-for-step, and she did it flawlessly as far as Faith's amateur eyes could tell.

Maria looked at Cameron with what might have been bemused exasperation. "You have taken ballet before."

"No," she answered.

"Damn, Cameron!" Faith said, hoping to save some credibility. "I know you said you had a really sharp memory, but that's just… Wow!"

Maria looked to Faith and then back to Cameron, who cocked her head to the side. "My mom says I have a good eye for dance."

"Hm." Maria seemed to accept the explanation for now. "Well, the height is nice. Beautiful feet. But your upper body is a little… mechanical." As she spoke the last word, Maria mimed a robot with her arms. "Remember: you are a cat."

Faith did notice that Cameron held her arms very still as she focused on the leg movements. i_Note to self: Cam's legs are more flexible than her arms._/i Faith wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been in as many fights with so many vampires that had the uncanny ability to perform complex gymnastic movements once they rose from the grave.

Of all the things for Cameron to seize upon, Faith didn't expect it to be the last line. "I'm a cat," she repeated, clearly not understanding.

Maria seemed at a loss for what to say for a moment. "Come back next week," she said at last. "We need to develop your flexibility and your… imagination.

"You, on the other hand," Maria said, coming over to Faith, "show great balance for one of your build. You have great energy and flexibility, good for ballet. You just need to refine your… discipline. Ballet is not a test of speed," she said to Faith.

She turned back to Cameron. "Nor is it a science. Remember: dance is the hidden language of the soul."

Faith noticed a man come in through the front door, and everything about his look and the way he dressed screamed 'thug' to Faith's senses. Maria went over to him and began speaking quietly with him. Faith heard them talking in Russian, which she didn't understand. Hopefully Cam would be able to translate.

Cameron was looking meaningfully at the two Russians, and Faith guessed that she followed their conversation fluently. John had told Faith that Terminators could mimic voices, so it made sense that they'd know other languages, too.

"You ready to go, Cam?"

"Yes," Cameron said without looking at Faith. "Let's go."

* * *

Faith leaned on her right elbow, watching Cameron drive the Jeep through the suburbs of Los Angeles. "So, if we had to, you could probably flip this car and land so we could keep on driving, right?"

"Why would I need to do that?" Cameron asked without taking her eyes off the road.

"I dunno. Just seemed like something out of an action movie, and you've got all this brain power, so I was just wonderin'."

"I don't know. I've never tried it before. Why did you never learn to drive?"

Faith shrugged. "I took a few lessons when I was almost sixteen, but they didn't stick. Driving a car just seems so dull. It's like you're on a sofa, not doing anything. I picked up how to ride a motorcycle a lot easier. Managed to snag a few boy toys who showed me the ropes. Never got a license, but I got the hang for it. A cycle's like another part of you, y'know? You can feel it move under you. You move, it moves with you. Eight times out of ten, riding a bike's more fun than riding the biker."

"I thought the expression was 'nine times out of ten.'" This time, Cameron turned her head slightly to look at Faith.

"Yeah, well, a guy who rides a bike tends to have a better appreciation for his lower body muscles. Most of 'em are dumb as all hell, but some of 'em really know how to itch that low-down scratch, y'know?"

"No, I don't know. I can only simulate sexual pleasure. I cannot experience it." Cameron returned her eyes to the road.

Faith leaned off her elbow and really looked at Cameron. "If I didn't know better – which I don't – I'd say you wanted to know what it feels like. Do you want that, Cameron?"

"Yes."

"Well, look at you!" Faith said with a naughty smirk. "You little fox! You wanna do a little dance with JC, don't you?"

"No, I don't," Cameron protested.

_A bit too much, methinks._ "Really? Why so prudish all of a sudden?"

"Learning more about the human body will make me a more efficient machine," Cameron said flatly. "I need to be efficient to protect John."

"Uh-huh. And what makes John so special? I mean, in the future, he's the messiah and everything. But right now, what makes you want to protect this John?"

"My programming dictates my behavior," Cameron answered. "I need to protect John to make sure that humanity wins the war against Skynet."

"Why can't we win without him?" Faith wondered aloud.

"That isn't an option," Cameron said as she turned into a small neighborhood.

"Why not? You're loyal to John, aren't you? Programming, desire, call it what you want, but you want to protect him. So, you're programming tells you that you want to protect him. Call that the robot version of wanting something."

Cameron said nothing as she pulled onto a side street.

"So," Faith continued, "what happens when this is all over?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when the war is over, the day is saved, what'll you do then?"

Cameron's lips parted and her eyes flickered a bit. Faith noticed that she did this when she was thinking hard about something. "I don't know. My programming dictates that I protect John Connor, but it also dictates the victory of the human race against Skynet. The two goals are codependent. If Judgment Day is averted, or if Skynet is defeated, I will have no purpose. Most Terminators go into standby mode when their mission is complete, but future John removed that line of code from me. Maybe I should dance to decide."

Faith raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Dance? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Dance is the hidden language of the soul," Cameron said, repeating Maria's words from the dance studio. "What if I don't have a soul?"

Faith would have laughed if the question wasn't spoken with a child's innocence. "Listen, Cam: I've met people without souls. It can be hard to tell 'em apart from your everyday person, and I honestly couldn't' tell you if you have one or not. But if it means a lot to you, you can work to earn it."

"How?" Cameron had parked the car, and was now looking carefully at Faith.

"I dunno," Faith answered honestly. "I know this one va… This one guy, friend of a friend, he fought a bunch of really tough enemies and got rewarded with a soul. He was already an okay guy before, though, but he wouldn'tve been without some special piece of something in his head. Might be different for you. I don't know if the Slayer Handbook covers robots."

"Cybernetic organism," Cameron corrected her.

"What's the difference?"

"A robot is an automaton. A cybernetic organism is a being made up of synthetic parts instead of organic ones."

"Well, then…" Faith smiled warmly at Cameron. "You're a synthetic being, are you? There's all kinds of beings out there, but if I had to guess, I'd say that even if you don't have a soul, you can get one someday. Then you can dance and show it off to everyone."

"I see," Cameron said. "Thank you for explaining. We're here. That house over there." She pointed at a house with a tall Hispanic girl leaning over a railing on the front deck.

"Thanks. You staying here?"

"Carlos has dogs. Dogs can tell who a Terminator is. They become agitated."

"Huh. Well, don't leave without me, Cam." Faith got out of the Jeep and walked over to the house.

Hiding in the shadows was a ridiculously overweight guy without a shirt on, also standing on the front deck, a soda in his hand. Faith knew that this was gang territory, but such was nothing new to her.

"Yo, amiga!" she called to the lookout girl.

Said girl merely shifted her gaze to Faith without a word.

"I'm here to see Carlos. Sarah Baum sent me."

The lookout girl just tilted her head back towards the door, which Faith took to mean 'go on inside.'

"Thanks." Faith made to head inside, but not before letting her eyes wander over the sumptuous brunette. She was quite a fine-looking woman. Unfortunately, she didn't acknowledge Faith's existence any further.

The topless chubby dude preceded her into the house, probably to make sure that she didn't get shot. Faith entered a nice-looking living room where some Hispanic kids in their early twenties were playing some kind of video game. They were all armed, some of them with noticeable sags in their jackets where a gun weighted down the fabric, and some guns were right on the table in easy reach.

One of them put down his controller and leaned back, putting both arms up on the back cushion. Faith wagered he probably imagined himself king of his own little castle, and that was cool with her. She just needed his help.

"Well, look at you," he said, leering shamelessly.

"Take a gander," Faith said huskily. "I hope you like what you see."

"Oh, I do. But sometimes, it's best to not be distracted by such a beautiful woman, especially if that woman wants to do business with me. That is what you want, right?"

The fat guy went over and whispered something into the guy's ear. "So, some chick called Sarah Baum sent you, did she? Never heard of her before in my life," he said a bit too quickly.

"That's the name she's using, anyway," Faith said bluntly. "And I can tell you're lying, man. Y'see, if you're gonna make your denial seem realistic, it's gotta be casual. You go all 'never seen her before in my life' like that, it sounds rehearsed, like you've been expecting something like this. You'd be better off just saying, 'Who's that?' Simpler's usually better, amigo."

"You calling me a liar?" the guy challenged her.

"Well, yeah, but I'm also trying to tell you how to be a better one. So, anyway, I'm guessing that this Baum woman came to you and got her identity all set up. And I'm not judging or anything. You do what you gotta do to get by, no worries. I'm just hoping you could set me up with something similar. Only not quite so fancy."

The guy she guessed was Carlos relaxed a bit and smiled. "Nothing fancy, eh? What's fancy to you, chica?"

Faith made a show of stretching and showing off her curves. "Oh, you know. Getting an entire background and history into the system, passports, the works. I've got good news and bad news for you, Carlos. Sarah said that Carlos was in charge, so I'm guessin' that's you."

"You guess well. As long as we might be doing business, can I get your name?" he said in an oily voice.

"Faith. Good to meet ya. So, good news is that I don't need you to run through as many hoops for me. All I need's a-" She was cut off by her phone ringing. "Gimme a sec, guys."

The rest of the gangsters went for their weapons as Faith reached into her jacket, but they relaxed when she withdrew a phone and not a gun of her own. She went outside, the fat guy following her, and she saw Cameron's number on the phone's screen. She flipped it open. "Yeah?"

The sound of a button being pressed on the other end beeped. "We need to talk. Get back to the Jeep. We're leaving."

"What?!" Faith swore and then pressed the number 1 button that she'd forgotten to earlier. "Sorry about that. Now, why do we have to leave?"

"Sarah needs us. Now."

"Shit, Cam. How'm I supposed to tell these guys that I came here for nothing? They're not gonna like that, and I don't want a pissed off gang on my tail."

"Tell them you have to go. I'll know if you don't."

Cameron hung up, and Faith looked at her phone strangely. "Sorry about that. Uh, mind if I just go back in and try to be a gracious guest once more?"

The fat guy silently waved her inside.

She went back in to find Carlos looking at her strangely. "Sorry, Carlos. Change of plans. Sarah's daughter, Cameron, is really upset about something, and I gotta go help her out. Dunno what it is, but we watch each other's backs. You know how it is."

Carlos sighed. "That I do. You look after your own."

"Right. And look, I really don't mean any disrespect or nothing. And if you're worried about me selling you out, well, if I went to the cops, let's just say they wouldn't be too happy to see me. So, we have that in common. You're not gonna try to shoot me in the back, are ya?"

Carlos laughed. "If I was gonna shoot you, Faith, I'd have done it already."

"Heh. Yeah, nice." Faith's eyes wandered over to the wall where a sword hung on display. "Very nice. That is a classy-looking sword you got there. You might want to put that in a glass case unless you plan on using it," she said as she pointed at the sword.

"Why's that?" Carlos challenged.

Faith shrugged. "Just sayin' that if someone came in here who knew how to use that thing, it's a bit easy to get to."

"You don't say? You one of those people who knows how to sword fight?"

Chuckling, Faith turned to leave, watching Carlos over her shoulder. "If I wanted to use it, esse, I would have."

Sauntering off and letting her hips sway on the way out, Faith headed back to the Jeep and got in. "So, Cam…" Faith quieted down as she saw a pistol with a silencer equipped trained on her. "Something wrong?" she said flippantly.

"Sit down and close the door." Faith complied, trying to keep cool. "A package came addressed to you at the house," Cameron said. "You've been in contact with someone. They knew the address."

"What?" Faith was truly confused. "I never told anyone where I was. You've been watching me since you got me out of that truck. How was I going to call someone without you and your super hearing picking up on it?"

"I don't know, but someone knows where we are."

"No, someone knows where i_I_/i am. If someone wanted to, say, blow you up with a bomb, they probably wouldn't send you a package. And they wouldn't send me one, either. What would anyone send me? Who even knows I'm with you?"

"I don't know, but you can be stealthy when you want to be."

Faith sighed, trying not to let the gun in Cameron's unwavering hand get to her, but it was really unnerving. They'd been talking pleasantly all the way here, but now Faith really realized that Cameron would do i_anything_/i to protect John Connor. "Who's it from? Is there a return address? A lead, maybe?"

Cameron's eyes flickered about for a bit. "There was a sticker of a comic book character attached to the package."

"What the hell? I don't read comics. What's it mean to you?"

"I don't know. John was going to send me a picture message when he learned how to use the camera function of his phone. We're going to wait here until it arrives."

"Well," Faith said, "I guess I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, but I think Carlos and his posse might not take kindly to us loitering on his turf. We may want to relocate."

"I see. Thank you for explaining." Cameron turned the key in the ignition and drove with her left hand, her right hand still holding the gun.

Faith sat silently, trying to breathe steadily, until they approached a red light leading out of the neighborhood, when Cameron's phone beeped strangely. The cyborg flipped open her phone with her left hand, examined the picture, and then closed the phone and lowered the gun.

"Got a good answer, I'm hopin'?"

"Yes. An ally sent you the package."

"An ally?" Faith repeated. "Do we know who it is?"

"To an extent. We assume it is a woman, but we don't know for certain. She's provided critical intelligence and is reportedly responsible for several acts of heroism. She is one of Skynet's highest priority targets. Higher than you."

"Huh. So, this doesn't mean anything to me. What's this character's name? Or comic book name, anyway?" Faith asked.

"The Scarlet Witch."


	8. Special Delivery

**Chapter Eight: Special Delivery**

* * *

"So, Cam: on a scale of one to why-even-ask, how likely is it that Sarah's going to have her gun on me the moment that door opens?" Faith asked as she got out of the car.

"Why even ask?" Cameron deadpanned.

"Gee, thanks. I don't suppose you'd mind standing between us for a bit? No offense, but you're bulletproof, right?"

"My combat chassis is designed to withstand extreme stress. My organic sheathe is not," the cyborg said as they walked up the path to the door.

Faith was confused. "Smaller words, please?"

"Bullets will damage my skin, but will not penetrate my metal body."

"Ah. Thank you for explaining," Faith said with a smirk and a wink.

Cameron glared at Faith for a fraction of a second, as if the cyborg was reprimanding Faith for stealing her catchphrase. Whatever was going on in that brain of hers, Cameron opened the door of the house and stood between Faith and whatever was inside.

Sarah was waiting with a pistol at the ready. "In," she commanded.

"Yes, mistress!" Faith teased, her smirk still in place. "Oh, come one, Connor. You really think I'm going to be all nice and obedient just because you keep on pointing guns at me? It's already getting old."

"Shut up!" Sarah snapped as she closed the door. "Derek, take John out to the garage. I don't want him around in case this turns out to be a trap."

"Right, hold that thought," Faith said. "Hey, Derek!"

"Yeah, Faith?" he answered from the kitchen, John just behind him.

"Seems I got a package from some character who calls herself 'the Scarlet Witch.' You hear anything about that in the future?"

"Derek," Sarah snarled, "I told you to take John and get out of here."

"Just wait a minute, Sarah," Derek said with his arms held up, palms first to placate her. "I've only heard rumors, but if they're true, then the Witch is the reason why the British Isles are one of the only Skynet-free zones in the world, at least by the mid 2020s or so." Derek backed up slowly from Sarah's withering gaze. "Come on, John. We'll just wait out back a bit."

Sarah turned her gaze from Derek to Faith, gun still raised. "This friend of yours another 'Slayer,' Lehane?"

"Who, Red? She's no Slayer, but she's a hell of a lot more dangerous than any one of us could ever hope to be. Don't piss her off," Faith advised. "That's probably a good Rule Number Two if anyone ever decides to make a list."

Sarah didn't seem interested in what Faith had to say. "Whatever. Just get in here and take a look. Cameron, can you do some sort of scan and see what's inside?"

"I don't have x-ray vision," Cameron said, "but I can examine the package and give an estimated guess."

Sarah gestured with her pistol for Faith to move into the living room. Faith didn't bother putting her hands up, and Sarah's lack of demand to do so told Faith that the gun was for her own piece of mind than it was insurance against any real danger.

Faith saw on the floor a cardboard box that was still sealed. There was no address, either for delivery or return, but merely the words, 'Please Deliver To: Faith Lehane.' Where a return address would have been was the image of the Scarlet Witch from whichever comic book she'd come from.

"So, Lehane," Sarah said, "how'd you know who the package was from before you even saw it?"

Cameron answered before Faith had a chance. "John took a picture of the character on the box with his phone and forwarded it to me. I recognized the image, and Faith recognized the name."

"Since when does metal read comic books?" Sarah asked.

"Skynet studied human nature as fully as it could before Judgment Day, and then continued to study it afterwards. That study involved familiarizing itself with human pop culture."

Faith chuckled at that. "So the Big Bad is a nerd, huh?"

"In a way. Excuse me, Faith," Cameron said as she moved towards the box.

The cyborg circled around the box and examined it. Faith could only imagine what sorts of scans she was capable of running. What did Cameron's vision look like, she wondered. The cyborg girl picked up the box with both hands gently, held it for a few moments, and then put it back down.

"Well?" Sarah asked impatiently.

"There is another container within the box, with the space between boxes filled with packing peanuts. The container is roughly the shape and size of a standard guitar carrying case, but the object within is not a guitar. It has less volume but more weight."

"Oh, Red," Faith sighed. "You shouldn't have. You didn't."

"You know what's in there, Lehane?"

"No," Faith said, taking steady breaths, "but I have a guess. You can tell that it's not a bomb, right, Cam?"

"It's probably not a bomb. I can detect no combustible materials inside the box."

Sarah nodded. "Open it slowly, Tin Miss. Lehane, sit your ass down and don't move until I say so."

"You got a whip and thigh-highs to go with that attitude, Connor? I can think of a few people who'd pay to see you-"

"Shut up! Just… Just sit down and shut up, okay?"

Faith held up her hands, palms outward. "Five-by-five," she said as she sat down on a wooden chair.

Cameron opened the cardboard box quickly and efficiently and pulled back the top to reveal the packing peanuts she had predicted would be there. Reaching in, she pulled out a black, unmarked guitar case.

The cyborg examined the case in great detail, holding it at every which angle. "Excuse me, Sarah," she said as she placed the case on a table next to where Sarah was standing. Cameron placed both her hands on the top of the case. Nothing happened.

"When are you going to open it?" Sarah asked impatiently.

"I'm looking for a way to open it," Cameron said, and Faith thought she detected the slightest hint of impatience. "There are no hinges that I can detect, no discernible apparatus for opening the case or for unlocking it, if there even is a lock. Tampering with the case is ill-advised; it could be wired to explode if it's opened incorrectly."

"I thought you said there wasn't a bomb in there," Sarah challenged.

"There isn't one that I can detect," Cameron said. "There might be other traps to prevent unauthorized access."

"What about this?" Sarah said, and Faith found herself frustrated that she couldn't see the case from her seat. "Looks like a palm print scanner. One for each hand."

"Possibly. If there is a biometric lock, it's not any kind that I can detect. If the package was meant for Faith, then it's likely that only she can open it."

Sarah sighed dramatically. "Of course. It'd be too easy otherwise." She gestured with her pistol. "Put your hands on it, Lehane."

Faith was getting tired of Sarah's constant bitching. "Ah ah ah, Connor. You forgot the magic word," she said with as innocent a face as she could manage.

It was so fun to push Sarah's buttons, even she did decide that now was a good time to smack Faith across the face – again – and raise her weapon. "I'm warning you, Lehane: you do as I say, or I swear to God I'll-"

Faith snapped the pistol out of Sarah's hands and knocked Sarah to the ground with the back of her hand.

Cameron had her own pistol out in an instant.

"Easy, Cam," Faith said, raising her hands. "Not gonna shoot anyone. I'm just sick of being treated like shit." Putting the gun down on the couch, Faith crouched and grabbed Sarah by the collar of her shirt. "Now, listen, Connor: I don't know why you have such a huge stick up your ass, but I am not your enemy. If I wanted you dead, if I wanted your son dead, you wouldn't be able to stop me. Cam might be able to, but not before I'd done the deed. But Cam would kill me if I made the slightest wrong move, and I want to live. I'm also not a big fan of the world ending. So wise up and show a little respect, all right? I get to feel a bit better about myself, and you get to stand up and not get beaten down again. We understand each other, Connor?"

"Fuck you!" Sarah spat, struggling to escape Faith's grip.

Faith sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Here's the problem: you're used to treating Cam like shit, and you're used to her letting you do that. I ain't gonna stand down and let you walk all over me. You keep treating me like shit, you bet your ass that so long as we're not fighting for our lives, I will knock you out so cold that you'll be unconscious before your body hits the wall that it's flying towards. Do I make myself clear, Connor?"

Sarah responded by head-butting Faith and kicking out with her legs to unbalance the Slayer. Faith reflexively back-flipped out of the way. "So," she said with a smile, "you really wanna throw down? Test yourself against a Slayer?"

"Stop it now," Cameron said, stepping between the two women. "John needs you both. Hurting each other puts him in greater danger."

"And what'll you do if I don't stop?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow. "You'll what? Shoot me? I doubt that your orders would let you do that."

Cameron turned her head to face Sarah, with either arm keeping the two women at bay. "If there's a threat to John's safety, I'll do whatever it takes to neutralize the threat. If I have to incapacitate you, Sarah, I will. I won't kill you except as a last resort."

Faith let out a low whistle. "Wow. You're gonna kill the kid's mom to keep him safe? That'll get him to trust you all right. Why don't we all turn things down a notch, 'kay? Nobody beats anyone else up, and nobody starts waving guns around either. Sound good?"

Sarah looked ready to argue, but Cameron spoke up. "Your cheek is already starting to bruise. Faith was holding back, or else you'd be unconscious."

Before she could protest, Sarah felt her cheek with her hand and seemed to realize that it was getting really sore.

_I tried to hold back,_ Faith told herself. _I guess Slayers do get stronger with age._

"You lay one finger," Sarah threatened, "on my son, I swear to God you'll be dead before you have time to blink."

Faith sighed softly, but nodded her head. "Hence with the me being here to protect him and not hurt him. Look, no offense, but if I wanted to hurt any of you – except Cameron – I'd have done it by now. If I wanted to hurt Cameron, I'd probably be dead real quick. You want me to get some ice for you while you sit down, Connor?"

Sarah waved her off. "I'll get it. Cameron, keep an eye on her and make sure that there's nothing in that case that can hurt us."

"Many things can hurt when applied correctly," Cameron replied.

Sarah didn't bother replying save for flipping the bird at the cyborg from the kitchen.

"Right," Faith said. "So, let's see what's behind Door Number One."

Putting either palm to the outlined areas, Faith felt a small tingle run through her that she knew had to be some sort of magic, and the case popped open.

"Open it slowly," Cameron ordered.

"Yeah, sure thing, Cam," Faith said. There were hinges inside the case, it seemed, and Faith opened it up to reveal a sight that was at once incredibly welcome and incredibly disappointing.

Sitting inside the case on the bottom half was a weapon that Faith knew very well, though she hadn't held it for very long: it resembled a sleek axe at one end with a long, straight handle that ended in a section of wood with a sharp point. Unlike the one she'd held in the final days of Sunnydale, this one's handle was black rather than blood red.

"There's a letter for you," Cameron said, and Faith noticed an envelope taped to the top half. "Read it aloud."

"So, what's in the box?" Sarah asked, returning with an ice pack over her right cheek.

"Faith's weapon of choice," Cameron answered. "An axe with a pointed handle."

"It's called a Scythe," Faith whispered as she took the letter. "Don't know why; doesn't look anything like a scythe. And I always did like a good longbow…"

"Shut up," Sarah said, but there was no bite to her words. "Let me see it, Cameron."

"Hold on," Faith said. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you. It might be trapped to something weird if anyone but a Slayer handles it."

"Really?" Sarah didn't sound like she believed that one bit. "How do you figure?"

"Unless you want me to try playing schoolteacher and lecture you about stuff I don't usually study much about, then I wouldn't ask. Now, Cam says I have a letter, and she wants me to read it aloud. So, here we go." Faith removed the paper from the envelope and unfolded it. She began to read…

_"Dear Faith,_

_Happy Get Out of Prison Day! I know I'm late by a bit, but frankly, we were all worried that you'd broken out for some sort of non-apocalypse thing, and yes, I admit that some of us were guilty of the whole 'Faith's at it again' kind of attitude, so sorry about that._

_Anyway, I had your case flagged just in case something came up, and when you started talking to this Ellison guy, I started keeping tabs to make sure you were okay. I'm pretty sure they won't be able to track me if they haven't already._

_That leads me to how I found you. Normally I'd do a really special search to find you, but did you know that the FBI put a homing device under your skin?"_

"What the fuck?!" Sarah yelled. "Bitch! I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

"Whoa! Chill out, Connor," Faith said, raising her hands to defend herself if need be. "I'm just hearing about this now, too. And quite frankly, I'm pissed. I thought they trusted me to handle you on my own. Bastards can't seem to suspend their disbelief about anything. Now, Red's got a bit more of an explanation, if you'll let me keep reading?"

Sarah sat down and grumbled, which Faith took to mean 'go ahead.'

_"It looks like something really small on the back of your neck that's used to keep track of people under surveillance from going somewhere they don't want them to go. Don't worry, though. I did some tinkering so that it looks like the signal is coming from about five and a half miles away from you at a one hundred seven degree angle from wherever it is they're tracking you from. I hope that helps._

_I also decided that so long as I was hacking into the FBI, I might do a little looking around to see what you were up to, and I'm happy to be able to tell people that you are indeed working on a possible apocalypse. Not that that's a good thing, because apocalypses are bad things, but you're not abusing your Slayer-ness, which is not a bad thing, no sir._

_I'll keep digging and pass along anything I find to you. I'll also have a small contingent standing by in case you need backup. And this brings me to the present for you in the box. It's about as close to the original Scythe as we could manage, but that special feeling you get when you hold it won't be nearly as strong. It's sort of the real thing, but we're trying to give one to each Slayer, or at least the ones that are most likely to need one. I'm not saying that you can't hold your own, it's just that Terminators look really tough. It'll also act as a beacon if you really need the aforementioned backup._

_Attached to this letter are a few notes about Adam, which looks like it could have possibly been influenced by tech salvaged from Sarah Connor's experience in 1984. I hope there's something there that helps._

_I've also included a few documents in the top half of the case. I figure if you're going to be flying under the radar, you could stand to have some documentation that helps you to blend in._

_You're not alone, Faith. Don't ever think that you are. Personally, I forgave you when turned yourself in the first time. You're on the right path, and we're all here with you. Take care of yourself._

_Yours Truly,_

_The Scarlet Witch_

_P.S. 'One-Eyed Pete' picked the nickname, and it stuck. If you ever feel a pressing need to beat him up just a bit when you see him next, don't think of me as standing in the way."_

Faith smiled to herself at Willow's omission of anything that might imply anything dealing with the supernatural. She'd also seen fit to leave her own name out of the letter, probably just in case she had to read it aloud like this. Knowing Xander, he was probably making the most out of Willow's nickname for him. At least he was able to laugh after having his eye gouged out. Not many things made Faith sick, but just the thought of what Caleb had done to Xander made her shiver.

"So," Sarah said, "your friend claims to be a pretty good hacker. Is she?"

"I think so," Faith answered. "Computers were never really my thing. Now, this, on the other hand…" Faith reached into the case with both hands and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the weapon. Just like with the original Scythe, she knew it belonged to her, and she could feel a power in the blade. It wasn't nearly as strong as she remembered it, but there was definitely something there. "This is my thing."

"What's Adam?" Cameron asked.

Faith shrugged as she spun the weapon in her hands, getting a feel for its weight and heft. "I don't really know. I wasn't around long while that was going down. And I wasn't exactly myself at the time. I just heard a few stories about something that had human, animal, and computer bits all thrown together to make some sort of monster. Never got any hard details."

Faith flipped the page of the letter and found a sketch of what she guessed was Adam, with various bits and pieces labeled to show what they'd come from. The demon bits read as 'HST' followed by a number, which Faith guessed was some way for the military to catalog everything so that it all made sense. "Take a look at this, Cam. What do you make of it?"

Cameron took the schematic from Faith and looked at it. She didn't move for a few seconds. "I need more data to make a conclusive analysis. There are too many unknown variables. 'HST' could mean any number of things, and without access to a catalog of references, the numbers are useless."

"My God!" Sarah was looking at the sketch with shock and horror. "It looks like they cobbled him together from bits and pieces and… Is that a spear in his arm?"

"This evidence must be destroyed," Cameron said. "It could hasten the arrival of Judgment Day if it fell into the wrong hands."

"Hold on, Cam. Does any of it look familiar to you? Any of the metal bits look like they might come from a Terminator?"

"No," Cameron said without hesitation. "The design is far less refined, and the cybernetics are intended to interact with organic brain and muscle matter. Skynet's Terminators don't do that, but they could if they obtained this research."

"And that would be bad," Faith surmised.

"Yes. That would be bad."

Sarah took the papers from Cameron and looked them over. "This doesn't make any sense. Go get John and Derek and let them take a look at this. If they can't figure it out, then destroy it as soon as possible."

Cameron took the papers back from Sarah and went to fetch the two men of the household.

"Now, then," Faith said as she put the black Scythe back in its case, "let's see what else you got for me, Red." She looked at the top half of the case, which had a number of pockets and compartments filled with various papers and assorted instruments. There were a few vials of what had to be unmarked holy water, a necklace with a cross charm, a few knives, and then the papers.

Taking the passport, she found a frighteningly up-to-date picture of herself that wasn't a mug shot next to the name 'Faith Solheim.' A California state ID and – _Thank you, Willow!_ – a motorcycle license with the same name were also included.

There were other documents, including identification for Derek, surprisingly. One document in particular caught Faith's eye.

The sound of footsteps alerted her to Cameron returning with Derek and John. "This Adam thing is seriously messed up," Derek was saying, "but I don't recognize it at all."

"I don't, either," John said. "So, we burn it?"

"Yes," Cameron said. "We still need to find the left hand of the T-Triple Eight that we deactivated and burn that as well."

"I'm working on that," Sarah said. "You and Faith stay on Shipkov."

Derek inhaled sharply. "Holy Mother of… Is that what I think it is?" Faith turned to see him looking down at the black Scythe in its case.

"I dunno, Derek. What do you think it is?" Faith said suggestively.

"That… That's what you used to decapitate more than a few Terminators," he said breathlessly.

"No shit!" Faith looked at the weapon with new found appreciation. Sure, it might not sing quite like the original, but if it sliced and diced just as well, then she wouldn't complain. "Courtesy of the Scarlet Witch. You can thank her some day if you're feeling like a gentleman."

Faith smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. "You can also thank her for something else."

Derek winced and took a step back. "I know that look, Faith. That's an evil look that only comes when you're happy for a very sick and twisted reason."

"Well, well, well. Look who knows me and my little quirks," she teased. "I got some documentation all set up, and so do you."

Holding out her hand, Faith let Derek take from her documentation that identified him as Derek Baum, who would be John's uncle on his father's side.

Derek looked at her suspiciously. "This helps," he conceded. "When's the other shoe going to drop?"

"Well, that'd be this," Faith said as she fondled a formal-looking document. "This here declares me, Faith Solheim, and you, Derek Baum, to be legally wed by the State of California."

"What?!" came the simultaneous exclamations of Sarah, John, and Derek.

"That's right, folks!" Faith said with a very satisfied smirk. "John Baum, meet your Uncle Derek and your Auntie Faith."


End file.
